


Surviving the 21st

by ThatOneKrys



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Don't read if you haven't watched season 3 yet, M/M, One chapter equals one episode, Season 3 spoilers galore, or at least don't go past whatever episode you've watched so far
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-09-30 06:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17218358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneKrys/pseuds/ThatOneKrys
Summary: Season 3 AU where everything's the same except Philip and Trevor are a couple, as seen from Philip's POV.





	1. Ilsa

All he wants is a damn _break_. Between the heroin addiction and withdrawals, Jenny and the eye drops, the Updates and multiple timelines, being abducted and tortured, and everything else he’s suffered through these last months, he’s _drained_. Fucking exhausted. How hard would it be to make himself completely disappear from the world for a few days just so he can sleep?

And how much harder would it be to convince Trevor to disappear with him?

\---

Philip’s gaze swipes across the bus once more, from Ray, lying unconscious next to him, to his teammates spread out along the benches throughout the middle of the bus. How he wishes he can just shut his eyes and forget everything from the past 48 hours. Instead, he has to go back to the garage and attempt to clean up their mess across the internet while the rest of the team works on making their alternate story convincing to the 21sters dragged into all this.

Somewhat looking forward to having a few hours to himself back at the garage, allowing him the chance to deal with all this shit without the team watching, Philip would still prefer having Trevor go back with him. Only, no one on the team knows about _them_ , this thing that’s still relatively new, and honestly, probably fucked up a bit now thanks to 001’s actions. Trying to convince Trevor to go back to the garage with him might seem a little odd when there isn’t anything he could do there that he can’t do at the safe house they’re setting up.

So he lets it slide to the back of his mind, knowing there’ll be time later for them to talk, and to tell the team.

\---

Getting Rey back to the garage is easy enough, thanks to the driver provided by Wakefield, but waiting for him to wake up from his drugged coma is mind numbingly boring. Granted, it shouldn’t be much longer, but Philip has never been one to take sitting around and waiting quietly. Especially since he can’t exactly wander off and do something else in the meantime.

“There he is,” he muses once he finally notices the first signs of Ray stirring on the bed.

“Oh, Jesus, keep it down a bit man,” Ray groans, certainly feeling the hangover effects from the drugs. “How did I get here?”

“I took your keys.” Philip jangles said keys between them in enunciation. “Made you crash. You were ‘celebrating’.”

“Well, I must’ve had a good time, Phil, cause…” Now sitting up, Ray glances around, obviously unaware of exactly where he is. “I don’t remember how I got here or what we were celebrating.”

 _Time to get the fake memories rolling._ “You were in trouble with a loan shark, uh, named Varghese?”

Ray curses, his reaction exactly what Philip needs to be sure this story will work, and follows him out to the main are of the garage. “Oh, _right_. I got picked up by a couple of his boys. I don’t remember what happened after that.”

“Well, they gave you 24 hours to come up with the money. You came to me, asked me to place some bets, we came here to watch them come in and hilarity ensued. You really don’t remember?”

“No- I maybe forgot to tell you I probably shouldn’t drink.”

“Oh, we established that. But, my hungover friend,” Philip agrees, walking over to the workbench, grabbing an envelope filled with cash, “you’re out of the hole with a little extra.”

Snatching the envelope out of his grasp, Ray riffles through it, worry still crossing over his features. “Oh, I owe Varghese more than this.”

“Well, he’s been paid. That’s…. that’s the extra.”

“Fuck off.” Philip smiles, unable to blame Ray for his skepticism. Even if all this _was_ fact, the amount of money in that envelope is more than enough to keep the lawyer happy for a while. “Man, I love you. Oh, come here.”

Though, it is a bit of a surprise when Ray comes in for a hug, which he awkwardly returns. “Ray, that’s, uh, what friends are for.” He’s grateful Ray can’t see his face, can’t see the strain and awkwardness at referring to their dynamic in such a way when the guy can’t even remember straight up saying they weren’t friends in the last 24 hours.

Ray leaves immediately after that—thankfully—and Philip comm’s Mac soon as the door shuts behind him. “Boss, Ray is taken care of.”

_“So the memory inhibitor worked?”_

_“He was the easy one,”_ Marcy’s voice chips in.

“That, and the cash,” Philip agrees.

 _“Now you can get back to cleaning up our mess,”_ Mac reminds him.

“On it.” And he does just that, depositing himself onto the chair in front of his computer, wasting no time in hunting down the videos.

Until a minute later Trevor’s voice comes on over the comm.

_“David and Jeff are just taking a break to get some medical attention.”_

“Trev?” It’s obvious he’s not talking to Philip—most likely with the rest of the team—but that doesn’t explain the sudden connection. When he doesn’t get a direct response from the other, he has to assume it was an accident. “Hey, man, everything okay over there?”

There’s a pause, then, _“I think we were done.”_

Eyes widen and his pulse definitely jumps. “Uh, _what_? Shouldn’t we talk about-”

 _“_ You _were talking about my feelings.”_

Okay, Trevor definitely isn’t talking to him, but that only confuses Philip further. “What the hell is going on, Trev? Who are you talking to?” It’s obviously not anyone on the team, otherwise Trevor wouldn’t have _not_ responded to him. One of the FBI agents, maybe? But why would they want to talk about his _feelings_?

Wait, no-

“Grace.” He nearly growls out her name. He hasn’t been blind to her growing interest in Trevor over the last few weeks, nor of her ignoring Trevor’s attempts to shake her off. Even if Philip was ready for everyone else to know about their relationship, he doubts even that would get Grace to take a step back.

_“Mnh-mnh. Philip and Ray?”_

“What about us?”

_“Yeah, you do.”_

Brows furrow. “Oh gross, don’t tell me she implied we’re a thing.”

_“Trev?”_

“Trev?” _Oh, he’s going to have some select words for Grace the next time he sees her._

_“Grace, I am delighted you were the one kidnapped and interrogated, not my parents. There, I said it. So…”_

“Jesus, this woman is relentless.”

_“So can I go now?”_

Hearing the distress in Trevor’s voice causes Philip to slam his palms on the edge of his desk, frustrated that he isn’t at the safe house right now, unable to do anything about Grace’s inability to fuck off for even a second. He half wishes he could hear what exactly Grace is saying, half relieved that he can’t, knowing it would only make him that much more annoyed with her.

_“Remember we’re much, much older than these bodies.”_

“What the fuck, man? I swear, I’m going to shoot her the next time I see her if she keeps this shit up.”

_“Calm down, Philip, she’s gone. Although I could definitely use a shower now.”_

Leaning back in his chair, fingers rub along the bridge of his nose. “That only makes me want to shoot her more. What the hell was all that about, anyway?”

_“She was trying to logic her way through 001’s kidnapping of her in comparison to the rest of the team’s hostages. I promise, nothing happened.”_

“Not for a lack of her trying, I’m sure.”

_“It would’ve been easier if she knew about us.”_

“No!” An annoyed sound forms deep in Philip’s throat. “No,” he repeats, softer this time. “I already told you I’m not ready for the team to know about us yet. And especially not her.” Because the moment Grace finds out, everyone else will, too.

Trevor sighs. _“I know, Phil. I’m just saying, not trying to persuade you to change your mind. I gotta go. The rest of the team is sitting around, waiting. I’ll see you later.”_

“See you tonight. And be careful. Please.”

_“Will do.”_

\---

It’s safe to say that, as soon as Trevor finally makes it back to the garage, Philip is more than a little stressed out. Sure, things at the safe house ended rather anti-climactically, but that doesn’t mean much where he’s concerned. With all the shit that’s happened recently, Philip would like more than half a day of more shit _not happening_ to the team.

It’s only after he’s got Trevor in his grasp, after he’s greeted the engineer with a quick once over for any possible additional injuries, after a heated kiss that didn’t last nearly long enough, that he’s able to relax. Hands still cradling the back of Trevor’s head, foreheads pressed together, Philip closes his eyes and takes in a slow, deep breath, shoulders dropping as he exhales. The feeling of Trevor’s hands rubbing up and down his back helps quite a bit, and it isn’t long before his emotions have leveled back out.

“I know I just got here, but just a reminder I do have to go back to my parents’ house tonight. Gary can’t help me move out in the morning if I’m not there.”

A smile appears, and Philip steals one more quick kiss before finally stepping out of Trevor’s embrace. “Can’t exactly complain about that since that means having you here every night after that.”

“Exactly my point.” Trevor’s smile matches his, and slaps a hand against his shoulder. “How about some dinner before I go?”

“Sounds perfect.”


	2. Yates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't ever expect updates this quickly in the future. I was super fucking impatient for an update to my own damn fic that this just spewed out of me in one day. Plus, there were many a great Phevor scenes in this episode that I couldn't wait to write out.

Sleeping in sounds like a _great_ idea to Philip, and he wouldn’t hesitate to do just that if it wasn’t for the mission they have today. Plus, Trevor officially moves out of his parents’ place today and becomes his newest roommate. And yeah, _that_ might be what gets him out of bed and puts him in a relatively good mood despite recent events.

He just hopes that the mission goes smoothly and that there aren’t any hiccups that might fuck things up.

Turns out, Trevor is just as excited—perhaps a tad more so, honestly—than he is about becoming roomies. He’d be a little concerned about it if it wasn’t normal for the old man to get so excited over just about anything he deems positive.

“You know, I might just kick you back out if you’re going to be this energetic all the time,” Philip taunts, glancing in the rearview mirror as Trevor climbs into the backseat.

Trevor just laughs, his bright smile bringing a softer one to Philip’s face. “Oh, come on, Phil, you know you’d never be able to kick me out, even if you wanted to.”

“Especially considering it’s Ops,” Marcy adds in with an amused smile of her own. “Can’t keep him out of there forever.”

“Lucky for you,” he concedes, attention turning back to the road as he drives them off to Marcy’s meet up spot for Step One of their mission.

\---

Back at the garage, working on the component needed for the mission, Philip can feel himself getting antsy. Residual effects from his heroin addiction, plus he just gets that way with missions sometimes, especially ones that involve a lot of steps and rely on a lot of outside forces. Trevor apparently notices the nervous energy emitting off him because all of a sudden he’s being pulled away from the table.

“Trev, what are-?”

“You need to step back and relax. So we’re going to meditate for a bit.”

“I don’t need-” Hands are on his shoulders and he’s being shoved down, which he takes to mean Trevor wants him to sit on his ass. “Come on, man. Really?”

That damn timer now ticking away, Trevor takes a seat across from him, legs crossed and eyes closed. “Ten minutes, Philip, that’s all.”

A smirk pulls at a corner of Philip’s mouth. “Y’know, I can think of something a lot more fun than meditation that’s also relaxing that we can do for ten minutes.”

Without missing a beat, Trevor responds with an unamused, “now’s not the time for that.”

Philip sighs and finally gives in to the engineer’s insistence, eyes closing. He’s no good with this whole meditation thing. It doesn’t help him, at least not nearly as much as it does for Trevor—it’s that whole sitting around doing nothing thing that he can’t stand. But he supposes he’s going to have to try and get used to it now that they’re living together, and no doubt this won’t be the last time Trevor gets him to meditate.

After a while, he isn’t sure exactly how much time has passed, he hears the computer beeping, and he opens his eyes to check the screen and see what’s happening.

“Close your eyes, Philip.”

“How could you _possibly_ know that I opened my eyes?”

“We’re almost done.” _That’s not an answer, old man._ “Take a deep, cleansing breath and focus.”

He reluctantly closes his eyes once more, but he’s no longer attempting to relax, too worked up over what they _should_ be doing instead. “We should be working on the device. We’re on a tight timeline.”

“This will help us concentrate on our work.”

“I don’t need help concentrating.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Okay, fine.” Granted, Trevor is right, given how antsy he’s been, but that doesn’t mean he has to admit it. “Focusing.” Taking a breath, he forces himself to relax, shoulders loosening, and attempting to clear his mind.

Not even five seconds later, the timer dings and Trevor exclaims, “Back to work!” before jumping up with the insane amount of energy he always has. The sudden change in his level of activity has Philip reeling and leaves him sitting there, more than a little startled. It takes him a moment to regroup, returning to his computer to check on the programs being run.

\---

“That was easier than I expected.”

“What was?” Trevor asks, continuing to mess with whatever it is he’s working on.

“Mining Ethereum. I used a root kit to subvert a super computer’s processing power to unlock the next chain in the block. I made $80,000 in,” he checks his watch, chuckling triumphantly, “27 minutes.”

“By stealing from people’s accounts?” Trevor definitely doesn’t sound all that impressed, but he can’t really care right now because, no matter what he thinks, it’s a necessity.

Although, Philip can’t help but dispute his comment. “ _No._ Technically, keeping the whole system afloat. If anything, I did a good thing.”

“Well, you know what eventually happens.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t happen for like--”

_Perimeter alarms suddenly go off and Philip’s attention is drawn to the computer screen showing the exterior cameras; what looks like agents of some sort are surrounding the garage. He barely hears Trevor’s inquiry and has no time to respond before said agents burst through the door, identifying themselves as FBI, ordering them to freeze._

_Trevor ducks down behind the table for the gun hidden beneath it, but before he can do more than raise his weapon, he’s shot, falling to the ground. Instinctively, Philip goes after him, needing to check on him. **This can’t be happening again. Don’t fucking let him be dying. Once was already too many times.**_

_But before he can get more than a couple steps, he skids to a halt, multiple guns pointed at him, hands raised non-threateningly. “Don’t shoot!” The woman in charge—Yates, if he remembers her name correctly—stops in front of him, her gun raised and aimed right at him and he’s convinced she’s going to shoot him despite his pleas. His heart races as he waits for-_

“…In what way did I give you the impression I was about to shoot you?” Trevor asks, now looking right at him from where he’s sitting at the workbench, concern and confusion marring his features.

Arms drop and Philip glances around the garage, a little unsteady on his feet as he tries to ground himself. _Another timeline hallucination._ And unfortunately the first time he’s had to deal with one while one of his teammates is around. He isn’t sure if he’s relieved or embarrassed that it’s Trevor. Without answering him, Philip half stumbles back over to his desk, trying to remember where he stashed his pills.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he waves off Trevor’s question, in a bit of a daze still, fumbling slightly with the bottle’s lid.

He can hear footsteps move towards him, but he isn’t exactly paying too much attention to the other right now. “Oh, man. Seriously?” Suddenly, the pills are yanked out of his hand before he can get the lid off. He knows exactly where Trevor’s thoughts are going, and it only confirms one of the reasons why he hasn’t mentioned them to any of the team—aside from the whole not being allowed to bit.

“Before you say anything, that’s a Traveler-approved drug,” he explains, his pulse jumping and his anxiety still spiking from the hallucination. “It’s not make me high. It’s, uh, making me _better_.” Philip is shaking, and he’s not entirely sure any of this is convincing Trevor to believe him.

“Yeah, I know. I can see that. What is it?” Despite the words, Philip still doesn’t think Trevor sees it that way. He does, however, note the concern in his partner’s voice, and that does calm his nerves a fraction.

“I can’t tell you. Protocol 2H.” The stare really doesn’t help, though. _Fuck, his emotions are jumping up and down all over the place and he really needs to take his pills so everything in him can calm down again._ “The ‘H’ is for Historian.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve seen this movie, Philip. I don’t like how it ends.” Pills are tossed back to him as Trevor walks away, and Philip can feel the disappointment radiating off him, which only makes him feel like complete shit (and the pills won’t be able to fix that). Even so, he takes the much needed pill, knowing he won’t be able to even attempt to smooth things over with Trevor if every part of him is bouncing this way and that.

Hands flexing repeatedly as he gives himself a moment for the pills to kick in (never has he been so grateful for how quickly they start working), his gaze shifts from the pills to the computer screens to Trevor, flitting back and forth repeatedly until he feels calm enough to think straight.

Slowly, he makes his way across the room to the table, stopping a couple steps behind Trevor, watching him work on the component as if nothing happened. “Look, I know you’re upset with me, and probably disappointed, and I don’t blame you. I get it. But please don’t be mad at me. You know I’d tell you if I could.” He reaches a tentative hand out to grab Trevor’s shoulder. “Trev?” When he doesn’t react, Philip lets his hand slide down Trevor’s arm, stopping just above his elbow. When he still doesn’t get any sort of response from the other, he lets out a sigh and walks back to his desk where he stays until its time for them to head out for the next stage of their mission.

Of course, stubborn as the man is, Trevor can’t seem to drop the pill issue even while they’re in the middle of a mission.

“Anyone ever hear of Protocol 2H?” he asks the other two team members in the van with them.

Philip sighs, not pausing in his prepping of the equipment they’re going to need in the next few minutes. “Trev, you know that means I can’t talk about it.”

“The ‘H’ is for Historian. That much he told me.”

 “Please drop it.” _Before you make this way bigger of a deal than it actually is._

“But you said that it was Traveler-approved, so I’m just curious if any of these guys ever heard about it.”

“Not me,” Marcy interjects.

“Cause he takes pills for it. So I figured you might know.”

“What kind of pills?” Carly asks, her concerned tone one he would normally appreciate, but it only agitates him this time around.

He stares straight at Trevor, shocked at how far the man is apparently willing to go right now. “Jesus, Trev.” If the other two were aware of their relationship, Philip would’ve added a few more choice words for him, but as it is, he has to bite his tongue.

“Show me,” Marcy demands. He hesitates, debating on whether he should ignore her and continue to follow Protocol 2H as much as he can given everything, but gives in, just wanting all this to be over with. Pulling the bottle out of his pocket, he hands it over to the blonde, his gaze securely on the computer in front of him, not wanting to see his teammates’ reactions to their existence. “No, I don’t recognize them,” she comments after a quick glance, and he takes them back just as quickly, still ignoring their stares that he can very much feel. “Give me one to examine.”

“I can’t do that.”

Trevor scoffs, and he closes his eyes at the response. “Alright, you don’t need to tell me. I’ll just figure it out for myself.”

“Is it something you’re ashamed of?” Carly asks, the only one besides Trevor who knows him well enough to know that would be one of the only reasons why he’d choose to hide something from the rest of the team.

“ _No_.” Even if she does know him that well, she’s unfortunately _very wrong_ this time.

“Then give the woman a damn pill so we can get on with the mission.”

“I can’t. I-” Philip cuts himself off with a low, quiet groan before he can go off on them. Taking a breath and a quick moment to clear his head and calm himself down. “I’m fine. I’m _not_ high. You guys just have to trust me.” He finally looks over at the three of them, silently begging them to _drop it_ now.

There’s a moment of awkward silence as everyone stares at him and at one another, before Carly breaks it. “Alright, I’m up.”

At this point, he’s pretty sure Trevor’s more than mad at him, and he’s just as mad at himself for having no seeable way out of this situation right now. Right now, however, he has to focus on the mission and deal with Trevor afterwards.

\---

Surprisingly, however, Trevor seems to be in a much better mood after the mission, not nearly as cold shouldered as he was earlier in the afternoon. Perhaps it has to do with the success of their mission, perhaps he’s forgiven Philip for the silence surrounding his pills. Either way, he’s taking it as a win and more than willing to enjoy the evening together because of it.

“It’s on,” he calls over from where he’s sitting, slouched in the chair, head lolled to the side, watching Trevor pour fresh, hot butter on their popcorn.

“You know, I gotta confess. I knew corn exited, I knew popcorn existed, never made the connection.” The admission makes Philip smile, and he snags the bowl out of Trevor’s hands once he’s sat down so he can tuck himself under the other’s arm, head resting comfortably against Trevor’s chest as they watch Rockwell’s segment.

He isn’t sure how long this moment of good is going to last before the pills and a lack of ungiveable answers drives a wedge between them again, but Philip is determined to make it last as long as possible.

Turns out, as stubborn as the old man is, Trevor is just as equally forgiving and understanding, even if it might go in a roundabout way. With Rockwell’s nationally aired change of heart done and over with, the TV becomes background noise as their attention is drawn to one another instead. Throughout the show, Philip somehow managed to squirm himself further into Trevor’s space, legs draped across the other’s lap, Trevor’s arm looped around the underside of his legs, hand resting on his outer thigh. He’s comfortable, and its warm, and he’d be content to fall asleep right there if it becomes a possibility.

“I know I went a little too far in the van today,” Trevor speaks up after a long moment of comfortable silence, nails picking at the seam in Philip’s jeans. Before Philip can respond, he continues, “I shouldn’t have dragged Marce and Carly into it via ambushing you like that, but I was desperate for answers. None of us have any clue what this 2H stuff is, and you gotta know it isn’t easy on any of us.” The unspoken _‘especially me’_ doesn’t go unnoticed, and Philip hums quietly in response.

“I know it isn’t. Hell, it isn’t easy on me and I know what’s going on.” Philip tries to laugh, but it comes off quite pathetic sounding. “But you guys _have_ to trust me. These pills aren’t anything like the eye drops. I know for a fact they’re approved by the Director, and I know I’m not the only one taking them. Beyond that, I can’t really say anything else.”

“I do trust you, Philip. I just don’t want to see you going down unfortunately familiar paths again.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Trevor warns, his embrace around Philip tightening, pulling him in even closer. He feels lips press against his temple and he smiles softly in response, eyes sliding shut at he enjoys the sensation. When the pressure disappears, Philip turns his head to capture Trevor’s lips in a proper kiss, a hand looping loosely around the side of his partner’s neck.

The kiss lasts for a few minutes, both men very much drawn into the moment of affection, distracted by the other’s lips and chastely wandering hands. It’s only when he feels Trevor’s hand wandering up, up, _up_ the back of his thigh that he breaks the kiss to whisper a quick “let’s go to bed,” which is met with a noise of agreement as the TV is turned off and they stumble over one another’s feet as they blindly make their way across the garage to Philip’s room.


	3. Protocol 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who remember, this episode was shown with a lot of back and forth jumping of the timeline. I wrote it chronologically, because it would've been impossible to follow the outline otherwise, which means a couple things might be out of order in comparison.

It’s early. Much earlier than he wants it to be. But the computer is beeping from downstairs—a very distinct beep that means there’s a message from the Dark Web waiting for him—and he can’t exactly ignore it, as much as he’d like to right now. So he rolls over in the warm cocoon of blankets and Trevor’s arm draped around his waist to press a kiss to said bedmate’s temple. He gets a muffled noise in response, smiling and chuckling quietly as Trevor’s face burrows further into his pillow.

Philip tries to slip free at that point, but fingers curl into the waist of his sweats in response, causing him to still and glance back over at the man now looking up at him through half-lidded, still very sleep filled eyes. “Where you going?”

“Message on the computer,” he explains, tilting his head towards the stairs. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back up after I check it.” Leaning down, he steals a quick, slightly sloppy kiss from Trevor before finally pulling himself out of bed and pulls on a shirt he finds draped over the railing next to the stairs.

“That isn’t necessary,” Trevor’s extra gravelly voice offers up, making him chuckle again.

“It is when it’s freaking cold out here.” Rolling his eyes in amusement, Philip trots down the loft stairs, shivering from the cool air in the lower part of the garage.

And just like that, his good mood (despite the early morning wake up message) evaporates into nothing.

**Mission: Traveler 3326 take out target named Aleksander Andrieko by 1500.**

_I fucked up. Saving one kid’s life who deserved to live and deserved a chance at a normal life didn’t do jack shit._

Thoughts continue to spiral down, down, _down_ , until all Philip can feel is rushing guilt for one choice he made months ago. A choice that was the Wrong one and he’s now paying for.

_How the fuck does the Director expect me to do this?_

He can barely stomach killing someone that might deserve it—he isn’t built or trained to kill, he’s a Historian, for fuck’s sake, not a tactician or, honestly, anyone else on his team—how can anyone expect him to kill a kid he’s already saved once?

_I can’t._

In a daze, blood rushing through his ears, heart racing faster than he’s ever felt it (even when high or going through withdrawal), Philip’s mind is blank except for the single thought: _I fucked up. I can’t. I fucked up. I can’t._

Before he can figure out how he got from his computer to here, the familiar sensation of a needle sliding into his arm brings him back, and there’s only a brief moment of calm as heroin swiftly courses through his blood once more, and then everything goes **black**.

\---

_He’s unaware of Trevor finding him sprawled out on the ground, still and unbreathing._

_Unaware of the fear and panic taking over Trevor’s entire being as he tries to resuscitate Philip._

_Unaware of the way Marcy has to bodily move Trevor out of her way once she makes it to Ops._

_Of how Trevor is a shaking mess despite his best efforts as keeping himself together while Marcy does her thing, getting Philip hooked up to an IV to flush the drug out of his system as fast as possible._

_Of her comment to Trevor that lets him know she’s aware of their relationship._

_Unaware of Mac and Trevor taking over the mission that he so horribly failed to do himself._

\---

The next thing he does know, is waking up in a bed he hasn’t slept in in nearly a week, feeling weak and shaky. It takes a moment before he recognizes what’s technically his bedroom and remembers what happened before everything went black.

_The heroin._

_The mission._

_Aleksander._

He stumbles out of the room, needing to figure out what he’s missed and what’s happening.

“Hi, Philip,” Carly greets him, but he ignores her. “What happened? _What happened?_ ”

Marcy steps in front of him, keeping him away from the computer with Aleksander’s photos still splayed across them. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Her arms around him are only barely comforting, doing little more than giving him a potential place to break down once more.

“We saved him.”

“We did. We did.” Marcy pulls away and all he can do is stare at her, loss and confusion consuming him.

“How could that be wrong? He’s just a kid.”

“You’re right,” she’s quick to agree, but no less genuine.

He’s guided into the computer chair, and all he can do is stare at the boy’s photos. He hates this. All of this. The damn mission. His weakness. Both with the mission and with the heroin. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he admits, voice shaking. He’s screwed so much up.

Carly shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. No one’s upset.”

Marcy leans in close, her proximity as calming as it always has been for him, something he’s extremely grateful for right now. “Hey, all you need to do right now is just take care of yourself, okay? We thought it’d be nice for you to be around friends when you woke up.”

Speaking of-

“Where’s Trevor?” Philip asks, eyes sweeping around the garage once before looking back at the two women, brows creased with worry. “He was here when-” He can feel his chest tighten having to think about the fact Trevor would’ve been the one to find him after all that.

It isn’t until Marcy’s practically in his face, hands on his shoulders, that he realizes he’s having trouble breathing. “Hey, Philip, breathe. It’s okay.”

“Trevor went with Mac to finish the mission,” Carly explains, standing right next to Marcy, both women hovering protectively over him.

Philip breathes in, forcing himself to go slow, holds his breath for a beat, then exhales. He’s surprised when there’s no shaking of any kind throughout the full motion, and he does it again, and a third time, before he can breathe normally without too much concentration.

“He was torn up when I got here,” Marcy gently offers up, providing him with information he’s too scared to ask about, but desperately needing. “Wouldn’t let go of you to let me take a look until I practically shoved him out of the way.”

“I don’t-” Carly’s hand is around his, and Marcy’s grip disappears as she sits back, both of them smiling at him. It feels a little off, but he can’t figure out why. “…What?”

“We know about you and Trev,” Carly explains.

“You two aren’t nearly as subtle as you think you are. Especially you,” Marcy continues, her smile widening into something akin to amusement. “Plus Trevor was acting very significant other-y this morning.”

“Oh.” It’s all he can say, unsure of where else the conversation could go. “Does Mac know?”

“We haven’t told him, and considering how oblivious he can be at times, I doubt he’s noticed anything.”

“Please don’t say anything to him. I’d rather he found out from one of us.”

“We won’t say anything,” Carly assures him.

“…I’m really hungry.”

The two women laugh, and he can’t help but smile at their response.

Though, 40 minutes and one hamburger later, his short lived better mood disappears and he’s back to overthinking things again.

“Your fries are getting cold,” Carly urges, most likely in an attempt to get any sort of response out of him, not necessarily because she thinks he needs to eat more.

“It’s okay,” Marcy adds on, which is what gets Philip’s attention, his head lifting from its spot on the chair’s arm to look over at the two of them.

“No, it’s not. I fucked up.”

Carly shakes her head. “No, you didn’t. The Director should’ve given the mission to someone else.”

“It was meant for me. It was supposed to be a lesson.”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

Philip falls silent for a moment. “I tried to make things better and I just ended up making everything worse.”

“You saved Aleksander’s life. How did you make things worse?”

He lets out a breath. “I know what he becomes, the things he grows up to do,” he explains, finally looking over at the pair.

“Okay. The timeline’s constantly changing. You said so yourself.”

His head shakes. “No. I _know_.”

“How?” Marcy asks, voicing the confusion easily read on their faces.

“Historians get updates of the historical record. Protocol 2H says I’m not supposed to tell you about it, but I’m kinda thinking, _fuck that_.” Because if shit like this is going to keep happening, he’s not going to be able to hide it from his team for much longer.

“So….” Carly urges him to continue. “You know about us? The things that will happen to us.”

“That’s the reason why I’m not supposed to talk about it. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, I’m sorry.”

“You stopped me from killing Jeff because you knew what I was going to do?”

Despite both of them knowing the answer to Carly’s question, Philip looks away, unable to confirm as much. Instead, he glances at his phone, noting the time, growing antsy despite the fact there’s still nearly 5 hours before the Director’s deadline. Knowing Mac and Trevor are the ones cleaning up his mess doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

Fingers tap against the armrest for a few moments before Philip pushes up out of the chair, needing to move around. Sitting down isn’t doing him any good and, as much as he appreciates Carly and Marcy’s presence, having them staring at him is only making his mental state worse. So he wanders over to Poppy’s tank to check on her, and to distract himself.

_“Hey, Phil, you awake?”_

Relief floods through him just from hearing Trevor’s voice and he can feel the tension leaving his body, along with the smile that spreads across his face. “Hey, Trev. Yeah, I’m here. Sorry for scaring you this morning.”

He can hear Marcy and Carly moving around, and the slide of the front door opening and closing as they step outside to, assumedly, give him some privacy while talking to Trevor.

_“It’s all good, buddy. I’m just glad you’re okay. You are okay, right?”_

“Yeah, I’m fine. Marcy cleaned me out and they forced some food into me.” A pause. “But I’ll definitely feel even better once you get back.”

_“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Boss is working on finishing up the mission, so it shouldn’t be too much longer.”_

“Can’t wait. Oh—the girls know about us, by the way. Apparently, we aren’t as subtle as we thought, according to Marcy.”

Trevor laughs, and Philip can’t help but get momentarily lost in the comforting, gravelly sound. _“You mean **you** aren’t that subtle?”_

“Hey!”

_“Am I wrong?”_

“Well, no, but that’s not the point.”

_“I gotta go. I’ll be back home soon as we possibly can. Go easy until then.”_

“I’ll do my best. Be careful out there.”

_“Will do.”_

It’s a couple more minutes before the other two come back in, Marcy going towards her things, looking as if she’s planning on heading out. “I’m going to head home. We’ve still got a couple hours before the deadline and there isn’t much else I can do here,” she explains, sliding into her coat. “Carly’s going to stay and keep you company, though. Comm me if you need anything or if you’re feeling off for any reason. Okay?”

“Okay, will do,” he agrees as he’s pulled into a hug by the smaller blonde. Letting go is surprisingly difficult for him, but he does, knowing Marcy wants to get back home.

She’s only gone for 10 minutes or so when Carly suggests they go for a walk around town; probably because she can see how antsy he is, being cooped up in the garage while more than half the team is out elsewhere, some finishing the mission he was supposed to do. They stay out, wandering around town, until they hear from Trevor and Mac that they’re on their way back, _with_ Aleksander.

The next couple hours are a blur, a mix of getting caught up on what exactly happened out in the forest with the boy, and figuring out what the plan going forward for him is; which means Philip is more than preoccupied with hacking into the Washington Social Services database and finding a family that’ll treat Aleskander right. Eventually, he finds a decent enough family—one with a parent that speaks Romanian, no less—and they make the necessary moves to get Aleskander in with said family.

“Why didn’t we start here?” Philip questions, staring at the file spread across the computer screens, shifting to find a more comfortable position so he can continue to lean into Trevor’s side even as they sit in their own, separate chairs.

“That wasn’t the path he was on,” Trevor needlessly explains.

“You don’t need to explain that part to me. What I’m asking you is why we didn’t get a mission to change his path in the first place.”

“Maybe we did. The Director has to thread the needle on billions of possibilities happening to billions of people in a billion different places all over the world. If it seems hard to understand the steps that lead to a particular outcome it’s because it’s literally impossible for any of us to understand that.”

Philip considers Trevor’s explanation for a moment. Sometimes he hates just how deep and understanding Trevor can get compared to the rest of the team, but at the same time, it’s one of the reasons why he’s so drawn to the engineer; multiple lives lived will give you a perspective no one else can possibly comprehend. “I hate that.”

“Yeah. But you can’t argue with the results.”

“The results, no, but I can _definitely_ argue with the other shit that happened to get those results.”

Fingers bury themselves in his hair, and Philip doesn’t resist as eyes close and a soft, pleased hum escapes him as a result. “All that’s over and done with. No need to keep thinking back on it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“We can always medi-”

“No,” Philip cuts him off, having absolutely _zero_ desire to meditate right now. “I don’t need to clear my head. I need a distraction. And not meditation.”

Trevor’s only response is a deep, gravelly hum, and it’s enough of an answer for Philip to sit up and pull the other into a much needed kiss. Chairs haphazardly roll away as they both stand, hands pulling one another closer for a brief moment before Philip’s being pushed backwards, trusting Trevor to safely lead him to the stairs leading to the loft.

\---

Unlike the previous morning, this one is much more calm, relaxed, and Philip can actually enjoy the sensation of being wrapped up in Trevor’s strong embrace for more than a couple minutes. He knows the peace is going to eventually be broken by Marcy whenever Mac makes his way to her place, but until then, they can ignore the outside world. And he does, burying his face into the side of Trevor’s neck, breathing in his scent, as he falls back asleep moments later.

They wake up to a text from Marcy, informing them that Mac is on his way over to her place. So they drag themselves out of bed, not without Trevor checking to see that Philip is doing okay—which he is, thanks to the later morning start and the previous night’s activities wearing him out rather quickly. By the time Marcy calls them back, they’re dressed and ready for whatever needs to be done. Which starts with a meetup at Ops to go over the plan.

“This isn’t going to work,” he voices, never having really believed giving Mac the memory inhibitor would, given how strong willed their boss is.

“You don’t know that,” Marcy argues. “No, wait….do you?” When Philip doesn’t give an answer, she continues. “Anyway, there’s nothing you can do about it now. We can’t change the past.” He gives her a look. “You know what I mean. It’s time to go.”

“We don’t have to do this,” Philip insists, not exactly _wanting_ to go.

“Yes, Philip, we do. Come on.”

“Go with her, Phil,” Trevor insists, somehow having ended up right behind him. If it were anyone else, he would’ve jumped at the sudden closeness, but not with Trevor. “One time thing or not, you still should go.”

He sighs, unable to argue with Trevor. “Fine,” he relents, turning towards the engineer to steal a quick, comforting kiss before following after Marcy.

\---

As much as he might’ve wanted to fight Marcy over it, going to the AA meeting helps a lot more than he expects it to. The whole argument between Marcy and Jimmi aside, anyway. It always surprises him how much it actually helps to get things out in the open surrounding his old habits and addiction, even when he can’t openly talk about the larger part of him being a Traveler. Even so, he’s grateful for the text from Trevor, signaling their need to leave _now_ , before things get too heated between the two.

Regrouping back at the beach, it’s obvious everyone is tense, each one of them individually thinking how this is going to end; knowing Mac, he’s going to find out the truth in the end, it’s just a matter of how he’s going to react to all of it.

Fingers brush against the back of his hand, and Philip looks up to find Trevor staring questioningly at him, and he offers up a reassuring smile along with a quiet, “I’m fine.” Now isn’t the time to talk about the meeting, as much as he’d like to, but they both know later tonight will result in questions asked and answers provided.

Instead, all the focus is on Trevor as he explains the last 24 hours to Mac, causing everyone to tense up more than once throughout, despite them all knowing the outcome. Everything now out in the open, the team heads out, though Philip stays behind for a moment. His mind goes fuzzy, overlapping voices filling his head, and it’s obvious what’s trying to happen: mixing of timelines. Taking another pill, he chases down the rest of the team, not wanting to fall too far behind.

\---

It’s late, later than Philip would normally be up after a Mission day, but he can’t sleep. His mind reeling with thoughts that he needs to get out, but can’t quite figure out how.

“I can hear you thinking, you know,” Trevor’s voice rumbles beneath his ear, his head resting on the other’s chest. Apparently Trevor was only feigning sleep all this time. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Philip?”

“Too much,” he admits, curling closer to his partner, arm tightening around Trevor’s waist and a leg wrapping around the other’s.

“Talk to me.”

Philip takes in a deep breath, fingers absently playing with the hem of Trevor’s shirt. “The pills are for my updates,” he admits on an exhale. “Historians get regular updates as the timeline changes, and sometimes it results in me seeing multiple timelines because of it. The pills are meant to stop the hallucinations. I told Marc and Carly yesterday, and I meant to tell you sooner, too, but we’ve been so busy with Mac and the mission that there wasn’t time before now.”

Fingers run through his hair, calming him down instantly, and eyes slide shut as he lets the sensation take over. “I understand, Phil. No need to apologize for it. Thank you for telling me.”

“I couldn’t tell you about them because they include information about you guys. And Kat. And David. And Jeff. Things that none of us should know, but I do.”

“And you have to keep them from us.”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” Fingers continue to card through his hair, lulling him towards sleep, and once he’s certain that Trevor isn’t wanting any more answers, Philip finally relaxes enough to allow himself to fall asleep.


	4. Perrow

For the first time that he can remember since Trevor moved in, Philip wakes up to an empty bed. His heart starts to race, until his mind clears enough for him to be able to hear his roommate downstairs, tinkering away at whatever it is he’s messing around with. Comforted by that knowledge, Philip takes his time waking up properly, stretching and rubbing excess sleep from his eyes. He eventually gets dressed, half convinced the shirt he just grabbed is actually Trevor’s and not his, but not really caring all that much now that Marcy and Carly know about them. Plus, the sweatshirt he’s pulling on will hide it anyway.

Half stumbling down the stairs, he catches sight of Trevor at the table, working on a gadget needed for an upcoming mission. Philip smiles to himself, always appreciating it when he gets the chance to watch Trevor work.

“He’s alive!”

Eyes roll and Philip makes his way to his computer. “Another exciting day in the 21st,” he mutters unenthusiastically, diverting towards the table to greet the engineer with a hand across the shoulder and a kiss to his temple.

“Every day is a gift, Philip,” he says in return of the greeting.

“Says the man who’s received the most gifts.”

“And I don’t take a single one for granted.” Finally, he turns towards Philip and offers up a proper greeting, their lips connecting for a lingering second.

Philip hums into the kiss, hand looping loosely around the other’s neck. “Why didn’t you wake me?” he asks once they eventually break apart.

“You were dead asleep when I got up. Figured you could use the rest. Not like we have anything going on today.”

“How considerate of you.”

“I thought so.”

“Oh shit…” Philip breathes out, eyes locked on the computer screen as he sits down, activating his comm immediately. “Boss, you there?”

_“Yeah, what’s up?”_

“The deep web is blowing up with a missing persons alert. Teams all around us are searching.” Philip notices Trevor coming to join him out of the corner of his eye, but it doesn’t actually register with him until a hand settles on his shoulder.

_“A missing Traveler?”_

“Not just any Traveler.”

“The Director calculated an 88 percent probability that an EEG,” Trevor joins in, reading the information on the screen over Philip’s head, “taken out on an accident victim yesterday belongs to Traveler 001.”

_“Well, that’s got to be a mistake. He was overwritten by the Director.”_

“All we know for sure is that a new consciousness was sent into the host body,” Philip points out.

_“You’re saying 001 was already gone at that point?”_

“It’s the only explanation.”

_“How?”_

“Don’t know, boss,” Trevor offers up. “But an EEG is kinda like a fingerprint. The Director would recognize it.”

“The patient was brought into Coastal Cross as a Jane Doe.”

_“Where is she now?”_

“Well, if it’s really 001, he was taken out of his room before the test results came back.”

_“Shit. Okay, stay on it. I’ll go to the hospital, I’ll let you know what I find out.”_

Turning his comm off, Philip lets out a low groan. “So much for a day of nothing.”

“Hey, at least you got to sleep in today,” Trevor reminds him with a grin, fingers running through his hair for just a second before disappearing again.

“That’s not the point,” he shouts after the other. He watches Trevor disappear upstairs before finally pushing himself out of the chair to go search for shoes and whatever else they might need for this manhunt.

It isn’t long into their morning hustle that Philip starts to feel his head get fuzzy, the first sign of his meds wearing off. So he slips into his old bedroom where he keeps said pills stashed (he isn’t sure why he still keeps them down here when Trevor knows about them and seems to be tolerant of his use of them). The remaining pill pulses in and out of existence, and it takes him a moment to focus before being sure it’s actually there.  Once he is, he downs the pill, tosses the now empty bottle aside, and pulls out his phone to call in a refill.

He’s completely unaware of Trevor’s presence until he speaks up, making him jump. “Who’s that on the phone?”

“I have to get some medication.”

“Medication.”

“For the update. Which you’re also not supposed to know about. It’s Director approved.” He knows he’s being snippy, but he can’t exactly help it right now. Not having any back up pills has put him on a surprising edge, and having Trevor acting like he doesn’t trust him again isn’t exactly helping.

“You don’t have to keep telling me that, Phil, I know.”

“My relapse was a one-time thing. Which I’ve already told you. And Carly. And Marcy.”

“Cool.” Eyes close and Philip rubs his hands over his face, trying not to let Trevor’s obvious disagreement dig too deeply.

“You gotta trust me, I’ve got it under control.”

“I never said you didn’t.”

_You don’t have to say it._

“But I’m still coming with you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“As your boyfriend, yeah, I do. Come on. Let’s go!”

He wants to argue, to keep Trevor away from this like he’s _supposed to_ , but there’s a louder part of him that needs his partner there with him.

The door opens, but he’s stopped by a hand pressed against his chest, and there’s a second of confusion before Trevor’s kissing him. It isn’t anything intense, if anything it almost feels reassuring, and Philip can’t help but lean into it, the hand not gripping his jacket rising to loop around Trevor’s neck.

“If you’re okay, then we’re okay. Yeah?” Trevor explains once he pulls back, his old, soulful eyes boring into Philip’s, and it’s all he can do to nod.

“Yeah. Got it. I’m okay.” The smile he receives in return nearly blows him off his feet, and he has to remind himself they’re off to get more medication for him and that they can’t just disappear back inside the garage and get lost in one another for a while.

\---

And he was okay. Until the whole situation with Jeff and Carly. Granted, the whole back and forth between them isn’t where the problem laid. No, all was good through Jeff’s TELL and the arrival of the Traveler now inhabiting his body. It’s the afterwards that has Philip reeling a bit.

_Carly and Jeff’s still, lifeless bodies sprawled out on the concrete in front of him, bullet holes in both their chests. What would’ve happened if the Director hadn’t taken Jeff’s body as a host. Neither one of them would’ve survived._

He knows it isn’t real, knows they both survived—well, both bodies, anyway—but he still can’t shake the uneasy feeling that comes with the visuals. Hopefully, choosing to be Jeff’s designated driver until there’s a chance to drop him off will be enough of a distraction until they get down to the nitty gritty of their actual objection for the afternoon.

Which, to absolutely no surprise, didn’t go nearly as well as hoped. _No_ , he didn’t have any knowledge about what was going to happen, but that doesn’t mean Philip wasn’t convinced things wouldn’t end well for them. 001 is still out wandering around Washington somewhere, and no one has any clue where to find him. Or at least no one willing to help the Director.

\---

“How do you do it?” Philip asks, glancing over at Trevor from across the kitchen as they take turns working on dinner.

Trevor doesn’t even glance up from the stove. “Do what?”

“Always have such a positive outlook on everything. Even with all the shit we have to deal with, you’re always so upbeat about it.”

He smiles, and a matching one finds its way to Philip’s face as well. “Practice. Living three full lifetimes allows for you to figure out how to react to various aspects of life in the way you want to, instead of letting your emotions or outside forces decide for you. After living so long, you realise it isn’t worth being mad or angry or pushed down by life, which only leaves positive reactions.”

Philip rolls his eyes, and judging by Trevor’s smirk in return, he caught it. “Doesn’t help the rest of us who only get one and a half lifetimes to live. If we’re lucky.”

“Or the ones seeing multiple timelines?” He makes a mumbled sort of noise in response, not really confirming Trevor’s comment, but not denying its validity either. “How about this?” Trevor catches his attention once more. “Tomorrow, assuming nothing too crazy happens, you and I get started on finding a way to help you deal with these timelines beyond your pills.”

“An entire day spent with you, focusing on me? I think I could get used to that,” Philip muses, sauntering up behind the engineer and wrapping the other man up in his arms, chin resting on Trevor’s shoulder as he enjoys the moment.

“It’s not all going to be spent in bed, you know.”

Philip hums. “I don’t see why not.”

“Because despite what you or your body might think, orgasms don’t fix everything.”

“Maybe not, but they do make things a whole lot more fun. Don’t act like you don’t agree, old man.”

A hip bumps back against his as Trevor slips out of his hold with a smirk. “I’m trying to make dinner here, remember?”

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll wait until after dinner to try and seduce you again.”

Half lidded eyes glance across the kitchen at him and he can’t help the way his stomach is suddenly in knots because of it. “No need to try, Philip. Now, dinner’s up! Let’s eat.”


	5. Naomi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo.....this chapter got away from me a bit. It's more than twice as long as any previous chapter, but a lot of stuff happened in this episode, plus a bit of new stuff necessary for this rewrite, so lots of material to get through.

This is _not_ how Philip wanted to start his morning. Or to spend any part of his day, if he’s being honest. He really should’ve expected something like this when Trevor offered to help him with his whole multiple timelines problem, considering who he’s talking about.

He isn’t entirely sure how Death By Exercise is supposed to help him out, however.

His sides start to burn, and he’s _this close_ to just dropping mid stride. “Slow down, man! This is very early for me.” he manages to get out without stumbling over his own feet like he wants to right now.

“Just push through it, Philip. I’ll tell you when you’re tired.”

Philip glances over at him and has to resist the sudden urge to strangle him. How the _hell_ can Trevor be standing with no issue after the run they just had? _Jesus_ , he just wants to die right now. And take the engineer with him out of pure spite.

Finally, _finally_ , they stop, and Trevor fishes out his phone as it buzzes and beeps at them.

“Is that it? We’re done?” he asks between shaky breaths, hopeful that the torture is over for the time being.

It takes Trevor a moment to respond, reading whatever it is that’s on his phone. “Nah. It’s Gary letting me know they’re on the road. His mother passed. You probably already knew that.”

Bent down to retie his shoe, Philip looks up at him with a less than amused expression. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t have memory of everything. Just certain things deemed important by the programmers or the Director.”

“Grandma Gary’s death wasn’t one of ‘em?”

“Not everybody has a part to play in the Grand Plan.”

“Well, she wasn’t the type to take something like that personally, so…”

“I did know about your grandfather’s death,” Philip offers up, actively ignoring the look Trevor gives him in response, obviously aware of his intentions with such information. “He was a host candidate. Never chosen, but…”

Trevor chuckles. “See, now you’re just trying to distract me so you can get out of exercise.”

“And you’re just trying to torture me,” he shoots back, mouth parted in an attempt to distract him further, but he’s cut off by the currently insufferable man he has the misfortune of calling his boyfriend.

“Philip, once you’ve lived in a body so old that the slightest fall would shatter your bones—and I sincerely hope you live so long—then you’ll know this isn’t torture. So,” _oh no, so not ready for more running_ , “on your feet, handsome.”

“No amount of flattery is going to stop me from making you sleep on the couch for a week for this,” Philip threatens between breaths, attempting to gather up enough strength and will to stand up again.

“There’s two beds in the garage,” Trevor reminds him with a laugh. “Come on!” And he darts off, leaving Philip behind as he considers for half a second turning around and going back to the garage. Instead, of course, he follows after Trevor, silently cursing the old man in the process.

When they finally make it back to the garage, Philip is about ready to drop, and he’s pretty sure his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. He hears Trevor mention something about a _cool down lap_ , but he is so beyond done with exercising today that all he can do is halfheartedly flip Trevor off as he stumbles though the front door and gratefully leans his face and chest against the nice, cold wall to his old bedroom.

A moment later—at least he’d like to think it’s only been a moment and he didn’t end up falling asleep there or something—Philip feels a hand against his back as Trevor makes his way inside as well. “Told you you’d make it.”

“Still not entirely sure I did, old man.” There’s no immediate response from Trevor and he’s about to make an attempt to look over at him when he feels fingers tug at the elastic holding his hair back, sweaty hair falling free a second later. “Sure you want to do that?” he asks, though he really doesn’t want to persuade Trevor away from playing with his hair, despite the tangled, sweaty mess it’s currently in. Eyes slide shut and Philip’s body relaxes right where it is, going lax against the wall, as familiar fingers start to card through his hair, carefully undoing knots as they’re found. “M’gonna fall asleep if you keep that up…”

A less than gentle tug gets Philip’s attention, eyes flying open in mild surprise as he turns and stares at Trevor, who’s already moving away from him and towards the bathroom with a very distinct look. “You’re still sleeping on the couch tonight,” he reminds, hastily pushing off the wall to follow after the other, which makes Trevor laugh. “We’ll see about that.”

\---

Twenty minutes later, his comm beeps just before Mac’s voice sounds in his ear, effectively ruining the previously playful mood their shower has taken.

_“Hey, Philip, think you can do me a favor?”_

He has to swat at Trevor who is apparently unperturbed by Mac’s intrusion, if the hickey he’s trying to leave on Philip’s collar is anything to go by.

“Yeah, of course. What’s up, boss?” he manages to ask without sounding as distracted as he actually is, reaching out to turn the water off.

_“I need you to whip something up for me. Remember that video idea you suggested in case Kat started getting too suspicious?”_

“Uh, yeah. I can get started on that right away.”

_“Great. I’ll be at Ops in 10.”_

“I’ll be here.” Comm turned back off, he stares at Trevor, eyes wide. “Are you insane? What if he heard something?”

He just smiles—smirks, really—and Philip wants to strangle him. “I would’ve stayed as quiet as needed.”

“And what about me?” Because they both know, between the two of them, Philip is definitely _not_ the quiet one, and with the way Trevor was determined to leave that hickey, he wouldn’t have been able to keep his cool while talking with Mac. “I’m still considering that couch, you know.”

Trevor’s only response is to pull him in for a kiss that makes his knees go weak and his mind go blank, until they separate once more, leaving Philip in the bathroom to regain his composure before going to get dressed before bossman shows up. “Sometimes I really hate you.”

An amused “no, you don’t!” is shot back at him from the stairs, and Philip only grumbles in response, refusing to give Trevor the satisfaction of being right.

\---

Fingers flying over the keyboard as eyes jump from screen to screen, he makes adjustments to the video he’s now working on for Mac. “Should have it to you by the end of the day.”

“Thanks. I wish I didn’t need it, but…”

A new window pops up on the screen, diverting Philip’s attention. “Whoa. Message incoming on the deep.”

Mac leans over his shoulder to read it, “Programmer urgently required to resolve corrupted messenger.” They share a look. “Has that ever happened before?”

“Sounds like it just did.”

“Okay. Well tell them we got one. Make up an ID for Grace, please,” Mac orders before walking off.

He thinks for a moment, trying to figure out the best cover for the obnoxious programmer. “Grace Day, FBI Specialist in….socially inappropriate behavior.” _If only that was an acceptable option…._

“You really don’t like her, do you?” Trevor’s voice flits from across the room, his tone a neutral one, neither accusatory nor accepting.

“She’s frustratingly annoying,” he answers, his focus on throwing together credentials for Grace. “I know you like her, and I get it—it doesn’t bother me or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about—but she’s just too much for me.”

“Not what I was asking, but thank you for the affirmation, none the less.”

Silence falls over them for a few minutes, only broken up by the clicking of the mouse and keyboard, until a curiosity comes to Philip. “She hasn’t tried anything again lately, has she?”

“No, Philip, she hasn’t. You know I would’ve told you if she had.”

“Okay, just making sure.”

“What happened to not being bothered by our friendship?”

“I can be concerned about her actions without being bothered by your friendship.” Philip shakes his head. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Trevor doesn’t respond, but he can hear what sounds like the other’s chair being pushed across the floor, assumedly away from the table he’s been working at, and a moment later hands settle on his shoulders and Trevor leans down to kiss the back of his head.

Philip smiles, and finishes the last couple touches to Grace’s ID. “You know I trust you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It’s not, and I know you do. Can’t I just be affectionate for a moment?”

“Not saying you can’t, but Mac is just outside, still.”

“One of these days he’s going to find out. Can’t hide it from him forever.”

Eyes roll as Philip stands up, turns, and steals the briefest of kisses from Trevor before moving away to collect the finished ID to hand off to their leader. “I don’t plan on hiding it forever. I just….want a little more time without his scrutiny.”

Mac pops back inside just then. “Got that ID ready, Philip? We need to get going.”

“Yupp, got it right here, boss.” He passes it off, giving a halfhearted wave as the older man disappears back outside to leave. He sees the questioning look Trevor is giving him, and shakes his head. “Don’t act like you don’t expect him to give us the third degree while reciting the protocols. You living here is already stretching it with Protocol 5. Us being together is so beyond that.”

“Are you complaining?”

“ _Fuck no_. I’m just saying. Mac isn’t going to be completely on board from the beginning, and I don’t really want to deal with that right now. That’s it. And now, I have a video to work on, if you don’t mind.”

“Have at it,” Trevor relents, with that tone that always makes Philip feel guilty, even if the old man would insist there’s no reason to be. So he intercepts the other as he makes his way to the couch. Hands cup Trevor’s face just before kissing him. “Soon, okay? I promise.” The echoed “okay” and warm smile he gets in return settles any worries Philip might’ve had, and he goes back to working on the video for Mac.

Until the garage is infiltrated by the rest of the team and the girl infected by the corrupted messenger, that is. Granted, the intrusion doesn’t do much beyond distract him for about ten minutes while they figure out what the hell is going on with the girl and how Grace is supposed to stop and reverse the effects of the intruding AI. While she works away and Marcy watches over Naomi’s vitals, Philip’s attention is split between the video editing, whatever it is Grace is doing, and Trevor hovering between the two of them almost awkwardly, like he isn’t sure where he should be. And judging by the look he gets from Marcy, she notices it, too, but all he can do is shrug questioningly in response, just as unaware of Trevor’s thought process as she is.

Eventually, he moves over to Philip, eyes on the computer screen and the video bits splayed across it. “You don’t have to keep your distance from her, y’know,” he murmurs just loud enough for only Trevor to hear him. “I told you I don’t care.”

“That wasn’t my worry.”

“Then what was?”

“I didn’t want to act too obvi-”

“Hey, lovebirds,” Grace interjects, causing all three team members to look up at her with wide eyes. “You should look up the word ‘subtle’ in the dictionary, because I don’t think either of you know what it means.” No one responds, the other two apparently as tongue-tied and shocked as Philip is. Grace looks up at him and Trevor, eyes rolling in her usual, unimpressed manner. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. You two are more obvious than Blondie over here is with her beau. As if moving in together wasn’t obvious enough, I haven’t seen either one of you without the other since we all got kidnapped.”

“That’s not true. I’ve seen you at school repeatedly since then.”

“And you’re always on that phone of yours, texting him. Or at least I’m 95 percent sure it’s him. Don’t know who else it would be now that you chased Rene off for good.”

 “Can we _please_ not talk about this?” Philip interjects with a groan, turning to Trevor while motioning towards Grace with a hand. “This is _exactly_ why I didn’t want her to know.”

“Well, you should’ve thought about that before deciding to hook up.” And with that comment she, thankfully, ducks into the bathroom.

“ _Fucking hell_ ,” Philip breathes out, face hiding in his hands for a brief moment before running through his hair.

“Only a matter of time before boss finds out now.”

He shoots Trevor a glare. “Not helpful.”

Trevor shrugs. “Just saying.”

“You are going to have to tell Mac soon now,” Marcy echoes Trevor’s comment from where she’s watching over Naomi.

“Whatever,” Philip grumbles, very pointedly returning his attention back to the video, determined to have it finished by the time Mac returns from whatever appointment he’s at.

Except, it seems like _nothing_ about this day can go right for even a few minutes, because whatever it is that Grace had programmed the nanites to do, is now not working, judging by Marcy’s slightly panicked reaction.

It’s a rush of activity throughout the garage for the next 20 minutes as another Programmer joins them and Mac returns, everyone watching and waiting to see what’s going to happen with Naomi. As fitting with everything else that’s happened today, things don’t go quite as intended—even with the change in plans—but they manage to get the AI program out of Naomi. Things calm down again as Marcy and Mac check her over and get her back home.

It isn’t until the garage is empty once more that Philip is able to check up on Trevor, who’d gotten bit by Naomi when the AI was still trying to take control, even if the old man tries to wave off his concern.

“Don’t give me that, Trev. Let me see your arm,” he repeats, reaching out to grab said limb before Trevor can dart out of his grasp.

“I’m fine, Philip. She barely got me.”

“She got you enough that you’re bleeding,” he points out once he’s able to actually look at the injury. Granted, it isn’t _that_ deep of a bite mark, but still bad enough that Philip will feel better after he’s cleaned it. “Sit down and let me take care of it, old man.”

Finally, Trevor relents and sits on the edge of his desk, arm held out for Philip to tend to. It’s stopped bleeding, so he’s content to simply clean it up and leave it uncovered. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he teases, ducking in to steal a kiss before stepping away and around the desk to deposit himself back in his chair. _He’s going to get this damn video done by the end of the night, even if it means staying up all night to do so._ “I’m going to be here for a while, so don’t bother staying up, waiting for me. I’ll come to bed as soon as I get this thing finished.”

The hand through his hair is the only response he gets from Trevor as he moves towards the stairs, which is fine with him. It’s late, and it was a pretty hectic day. He doesn’t blame the other for wanting to turn in already.

\---

The next thing he knows, sunlight is shining through the windows, and Trevor is meandering back downstairs. Philip has to look at the clock on his monitor to double check just how late—or early it is. _So much for going to bed when this is done._

“What are you doing up so early?” he asks curiously, glancing up from the monitor. “Sorry for not coming to bed at all. This took a little longer than I expected.”

Trevor slowly wanders across the garage, gaze wandering around without really seeing anything, and very much silent despite the fact he’s usually fairly chatty even first thing in the morning.

_He’s looking very much like Naomi did when the AI was in her._

“Shit.” Philip moves towards him, carefully watching Trevor, and activates his comm. “Guys? I think the AI has gotten into Trevor somehow and it’s trying to leave.” Hands dart out to stop Trevor from doing just that.

_“Don’t let him. Everybody report to Ops.”_

Unfortunately, he keeps walking towards the door, and Philip definitely begins to panic a bit. “Trevor, if you can hear me, stop. _Trevor_ , babe, I can’t let you leave.” He isn’t sure how else to stop him, given how determined the AI seems to be, except…. “I- I’m sorry I have to do this.” Punching Trevor in the face, Philip’s relieved when he goes down instantly, meaning he doesn’t have to try again. He darts off to grab the defibrillator, hoping zapping Trevor will destroy the AI like it did in Naomi.

_Fuck this AI and its stamina, Jesus Christ._

He should’ve known. With how much it fought back while in Naomi, he should’ve known it wouldn’t go down easily inside Trevor. That, mixed with Trevor’s strength, it doesn’t take much for Philip to be overpowered, and the electrical shock against his throat is the last thing he feels before blacking out.

_“He’s coming to. Probably didn’t take a full charge.”_ Marcy’s voice sounds far away at first, but it only takes a moment for him to fully come to, her face obstructing his view of the garage, Mac hovering just behind her.

“Where is he?” _Oh man_ , apparently he isn’t fully back quite yet judging by how badly he slurred his words. Not to mention, sitting up seems to be taking a lot more effort to do than he’s used to.

“It’s okay. Carly’s got eyes on him,” Mac assures him. “We’ll pick up Grace on the way.”

“Do we have to?” The question is out before he even processes the thought, and ignores the look Marcy gives him. “Yeah, I know. Programmer. I’m sorry, boss. I tried to stop him.”

“We heard.” Which means he heard Philip’s word choice as well, and he isn’t dumb enough to hope Mac conveniently ignored that bit. “Let’s go get him. We can talk about the other thing later.” Reaching down, they clasp arms and he’s being pulled back up to his feet in a swift motion, causing him to stumble just slightly once he’s vertical again before regaining his footing.

\---

As much as he dislikes the idea of Grace being the one to try and reason with the AI inside Trevor, he knows she’s the only one who would successfully be able to. So he puts his feelings about her feelings for Trevor aside, instead focusing on the need for whatever her plan is to work. Because it has to. He can’t lose Trevor like this. He _won’t_ lose Trevor like this.

“I have a way you can both live, if you come with us,” Grace offers the AI.

The AI glances around the team surrounding Trevor, its gaze holding longest on Philip once it reaches him, and his heart skips a beat. _C’mon, Trev, I know you’re in there. Don’t let it win._ Its attention turns back to Grace and he nods. “I’ll go.”

Philip exhales, but he refuses to relax or call it a win just yet. Not until they have Trevor completely back.

\---

Hearing the Director speaking through Ilsa for the first time is almost surreal. Actual contact with the Director in the 21st. For Philip, though, it would’ve been a lot more intriguing if they weren’t there because of the damn AI inside Trevor. Their conversation is taking way too long for Philip’s liking, however, and it’s almost made worse by the fact that they can hear everything being said, including the AI’s determination to live, no matter what it might cost.

The only thing worse is seeing Trevor in pain as the Director does whatever it needs to in order to get the AI out of him—some variation of rewriting Trevor without actually erasing 0115’s current consciousness. It isn’t until he feels a hand against his that he realizes he’s balled up his fists so tightly his knuckles are white. Glancing down at Marcy’s hand, he forces himself to relax before meeting her reassuring gaze.

As soon as the process is complete, Philip pushes past everyone and darts into the room that houses Ilsa, dropping to his knees and cradling Trevor’s head in his lap as Marcy checks his vitals. He knows Grace and Carly are in there as well, but he’s so focused on Trevor that he couldn’t tell you what either of them were doing. “Did it work?” he asks, looking hopefully over at Marcy, worry seeping back in as Trevor still doesn’t respond.

“He should be fine after some rest,” she assures him, and all he can do in response is sigh in relief, head dropping to rest his forehead against Trevor’s as he takes a moment to gather himself back up now that it seems like everything’s going to be okay.

“The three of us are gonna have a little chat once he’s woken up, you know,” Mac’s voice sounds from somewhere behind him, causing Philip to sit up.

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Alright, team, let’s get Trevor back to Ops so he can rest.”

\---

As much as he wants to hover—and keep Grace from being the one to do just that—Philip uses the downtime while Trevor sleeps to finish up the video for Mac. But, he’s up and out of his chair as soon as the Programmer announces “He’s alive!” and plants himself on the table next to the couch, fingers brushing through Trevor’s hair and up and down his neck comfortingly.

He glances up at Philip before looking back at Grace, obviously confused. “Uh- how did you….?”

“Okay. Remember how I repackaged Marcy? The Director did a very similar thing. Took your consciousness, unbundled the AI from it, then sent you back completely intact.”

“ _Wow_.”

“It wasn’t easy to watch, but…” Carly adds on.

Then Mac jumps in. “Good to have you back, Trev.”

“Good to be back, boss. Thanks.” Trevor slowly sits up, Philip helping him do so, hands guiding him by the shoulders.

“Oh, and sorry for the punch in the face,” he apologizes with a grimace, which earns him an even more confused look from the engineer.

“I don’t remember it.”

Philip smirks. “Never mind, then.” The look Trevor gives him only makes his smirk turn into something much more apologetic despite the tease.

“That’s Protocol 5, everybody,” Mac interjects. “Get some rest. We need you. Except you two-” He points to the two of them on the couch. “We’ve got a little chat ahead of us tonight.” Marcy and Carly waste no time in gathering up their things before heading out, obviously not wanting to get dragged into the oncoming conversation, meanwhile Grace hovers for a moment, which doesn’t get past any of them. “Grace, that includes you, too.”

“What? I can’t make sure he’s fine before leaving?”

Mac gives her a look, motioning towards Trevor with a hand. “Look. He’s fine. Now go home.”

“Okay, alright. Geeze. I get it. You don’t want me snooping in on your little chat about their relationship.”

“That’s because it’s none of your business,” Philip reminds her, staring up at her from his new spot on the couch right next to Trevor.

“It is if you two keep acting like this in front of everyone now that we all know.”

“Go home,” Philip and Mac say at the same time, which she finally listens to, grabbing her jacket before standing.

“I’m still available for _anything_ , if you need it, Trev,” she insists before being chased off by another look from Mac.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Philip whispers under his breath, leaning back against the couch, hand rubbing over his face in annoyance. Once the door shuts behind Grace, he turns towards Trevor, a hand settling on his knee. “Hey, you feeling okay? You had quite the day.”

Trevor’s hand covers his and squeezes. “Like everyone’s said, I’m fine. Just a little exhausted. So. Boss knows now?”

His free hand scratches at his jaw. “Yeah….I wasn’t exactly all that subtle when the AI took over. I panicked a bit and might’ve called you ‘babe’ over the comms…”

Raised brows is the immediate reaction he gets from Trevor, but there’s also a slight upturn of his lips that betrays whatever amusement he finds in the admission. “I guess that’s one way to do it.”

“It sure is,” Mac jumps in, towering over them where he stands, arms crossed over his chest. “Care to tell me _why_ you decided to keep this whole thing a secret?”

“That’s my fault, boss. Trevor had nothing to do with that decision. I didn’t want any of the team to know until I was ready to tell them. I just wanted things to be quiet and normal-ish for a little while. Before everyone found out and interjected their own opinions about it. Plus I was pretty convinced you wouldn’t be okay with it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It doesn’t exactly follow Protocol. Us living together is already stretching Protocol 5, considering Philip and Trevor never knew each other before.”

“And if you add in the fact relationships between Travelers are frowned upon, since it can affect the Grand Plan in ways the Director can’t easily foresee,” Trevor interjects, drawing Mac’s heavy gaze onto him, giving Philip a chance to breathe without feeling like he’s in trouble. There’s a squeeze to his hand and he can’t help but smile, returning the subtle gesture.

“Okay, fair enough. How long has this been going on?”

“We kind of started things after the Anna Hamilton mission?”

“So a while, then.” It’s stated as a simple fact, and Philip is having quite the time trying to figure out just how Mac feels about this whole situation, given the neutral tone he’s been using. And it’s kinda putting him on edge a little bit.

“A little while, yeah,” Trevor agrees. “Look, boss, we know this isn’t the most acceptable situation, but I don’t see why we should be denied this. Philip and I have yet to let this affect any mission we’ve had since things began, and we’ve already agreed that we won’t let it ever happen in the future. At least no more so than we would have as just teammates, or compared to anyone else on the team.”

“In all honesty,” Philip cuts in, his grip on Trevor’s hand tightening, “our relationship has made staying clean a _lot_ easier than it otherwise would’ve been. Not that I expected to have too many issues, with Marcy’s help, but Trevor adds another layer I wouldn’t have had.”

Mac hums in response, arms dropping. “Alright.”

Philip and Trevor look at each other, mildly confused, then back up at Mac. “Alright?” Philip echoes.

“Alright. As long as this relationship doesn’t get in the way of any missions, I don’t see why it can’t happen. Now,” hands clasp together, effectively changing topics, “you get that video finished yet?”

“Almost. I just have a couple more things to add, then it’s good to go. It shouldn’t take long. I can have it uploaded to your tablet by the time you get home,” Philip explains, pushing up off the couch and moving towards his computer.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” And with that, Mac turns and heads out, leaving the two alone once more.

Philip’s attention is honed in on the computer, adding the last couple necessities to the video before doing as he promised, uploading it to Mac’s tablet long before he’ll make it to Kat’s loft. Fingers tapping against the edge of the desk, he glances over the monitors at Trevor. “You hungry at all? I was thinking of going to get something from the burger place down the street.”

“A burger sounds perfect right now. And don’t forget the French fries,” Trevor adds on as Philip gets up and moves towards him.

He laughs. “I wouldn’t dare.” Leaning down, he steals a quick kiss. “Just sit and relax. You’ve had a crazy day and I won’t be long.”

“I won’t move.”

Philip grins. “Good.”

As promised, he’s gone and back in twenty minutes, already digging through the bag for Trevor’s order before he’s even half way across the garage.

“Smells good.”

Philip pauses just in front of the couch, giving the other an amused look. “You want me to cut yours up into small pieces, old man?”

The laugh he gets in response makes his heart soar. “Yeah, funny. I’ll be running rings around you again by morning,” Trevor insists as he gets up and grabs himself a glass of water.

“That’s not really much of a challenge, if we’re being honest,” Philip reminds him as he sorts through the containers of food, figuring out whose is whose. When he doesn’t get a response, plus what sounds like water spilling onto the floor, he looks over at the water cooler. The short lived moment of calm immediately disappears, panic seeping in yet again when he sees Trevor just standing there, frozen. “Trevor?”

Jumping up from the couch, he closes the nozzle, takes the cup out of his hand, and tries to move Trevor. Waving a hand in front of him doesn’t seem to do anything, so Philip snaps his fingers, hoping the noise would do something. “Trevor. What’s wrong?”

It’s a couple more seconds before he finally snaps out of it, looking just as confused as Philip feels. “I don’t know what just happened…”

“Maybe we should get Marcy back over here, look you over again.”

Trevor waves him off. “No, not tonight. I might just need some more sleep.”

He lets out a breath, wanting to push the point further, not wanting them to overlook something just because Trevor thinks it might not be a big deal, but he also doesn’t want to push _Trevor_. He’ll just have to trust his partner’s judgement on this and talk to Marcy in the morning. “Call her tomorrow, then. Please?”

“Tomorrow. I promise. Now, let’s eat before our food gets cold.”


	6. Philip

The alarm on his phone goes off, and it takes a moment for Philip to react, considering just how early it is right now and how much he hates being awake at such a horrible hour. But he has an update to go to this morning, and he can’t exactly skip it. Not if he wants to stay relevant and useful to the Grand Plan. So a hand darts out from under the covers and silences the beeping, hopefully before it wakes Trevor up as well.

Alarm silent, he gives it a moment as he fully wakes up to see if Trevor did too, and when there’s no movement from the other side of the bed, he deems it safe to slip free and get dressed. Before heading downstairs, he writes out a quick note telling Trevor he’ll be back soon in case the engineer wakes up before he returns, and leans across the bed to press a quick, light kiss against the back of his exposed shoulder.

A quick stop at Poppy’s tank to feed her and check her water, Philip gives the turtle a quick rub of his finger across the top of her head before finally leaving.

\---

As always, why would he ever expect _anything_ to go as intended? At this point, he’s pretty certain he’s never going to catch a break with this whole Life Sucks situation. Since here he is, getting kidnapped. Again. He just hopes the rest of his team figures out soon enough that he’s missing

_Fucking Faction._

First _Jenny_ , now this Dawn bitch, who thinks she can reason her way into getting any of the Historians to help them out after fucking _kidnapping_ them. It’s bad enough they’re being held hostage—including the newest Historian and Traveler that arrived during the Update—separating them and cutting out their comms aren’t exactly reasons to _help_.

Philip does his best to not react as a knife cuts into his neck, having had dealt with much worse pain than this in recent history. Plus, he’d rather not give any Faction members any level of satisfaction if he can help it. They’ve used him once already, they won’t get anything out of him this time around.

He’s almost curious if any of the members here now worked with Jenny, but he’s still bitter and angry enough about that betrayal to not let himself wander through those memories ever again. So he pushes any and all thoughts pertaining to Jenny aside, instead focusing on his team and silently hoping they’re in the process of looking for him and the other six Historians.

The bandage is a nice touch, though, and it almost makes him smile in amusement at the attempted moment of humanity. Afterwards, luckily, they leave him alone in his _cozy_ cell. Which, of course, means he starts to get antsy and fidgety, unable to do anything other than _sit there_. In an attempt to calm his nerves down (and to give the sudden burst of energy somewhere to go, even temporarily), Philip pulls his hair back into a bun. Getting his hair out of his face feels good, plus it’s no longer brushing awkwardly against the bandage on his neck (doesn’t help that the collar of his shirt hits it when he moves his neck or shoulder the wrong way, though).

Alone, Philip’s mind wanders some, first to his team and whatever they might be up to, then specifically to Trevor, worried over just how much the engineer is internally freaking out over his disappearance (because everyone knows, no matter what he’s feeling, Trevor always has a positive exterior), then to just _how_ the Faction knew about this update. They had to have been told by someone, considering only Historians are given the time and location for them, and only from Archivists. And there’s no way in hell an Archivist would ever tell a Faction member anything. Which means they got to someone. To a Historian, at the very least.

Which is _not_ a good thing. At all.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed, but eventually Dawn finally makes an entrance, and he honestly couldn’t care less about her being there. He’s determined to keep his resolve and won’t give her anything she asks for.

“I brought you something to eat,” she offers, a pre-packaged sandwich coming into his view as she moves into his line of sight, refusing to look directly at her.

“I’m not hungry.” Which, of course, isn’t true, considering he skipped out on breakfast, assuming he’d be back home early enough to eat something with Trevor.

“For later, if you like.” The sound of the packaging hitting and bouncing across the surface of the small table in the corner reverberates through the room, but still Philip refuses to respond.

“Where’s Kyle?” Because he’s the only other Historian he knows—plus his host has a connection to Trevor _and_ 0115, so there’s an added layer of concern and care that Philip wouldn’t otherwise have towards someone not part of his team.

“He’s fine. I know that you see us as the enemy--”

He finally looks up at Dawn, his dislike for her easily readable on his face. “Because you’re the enemy.”

“But we want the same thing.”

Philip shakes his head. “Not even close.”

“To save the future of humanity.”

“Okay, what about your host? Was she historically supposed to die? Or was she just convenient? Did you know anything about her before you randomly murdered her and took over her life?” Their whole _intent_ and _beliefs_ aside, this is his biggest issue with the Faction: killing innocent people way before their time just so they could transfer their agents to the 21st as quickly as possible. At least with the Director and the original Grand Plan, only those meant to die are chosen and used for hosts. No unnecessary or additional deaths.

“It was for the greater good,” Dawn almost-whispers, and Philip is more than willing to take that as a win.

“You released a plague that was supposed to kill over one billion people. How is _that_ the greater good?” It’s amazing, really, that he doesn’t lose his cool over that alone. Not only do the Faction kill innocents for hosts, they’re willing to kill whoever they have to to bring _their_ version of a better future to fruition. At least the Grand Plan involves saving people, and very rarely do their missions include killing someone. And even then, Philip is more than willing to agree that those people usually deserve it for the things they’ve already done.

Dawn kneels down to his level, and he has to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the intentional perceived change in power. “What if that had saved the future? What if _one_ mass culling right at the turning point changed everything for the better? Your way isn’t working.” _At least we aren’t killing people left and right._ “How do you not see that?”

“The Director isn’t giving up.”

“The Director…who will overwrite you the moment that you’re no longer viable? Because that’s what happened to that poor soul at your update this morning.”

How badly he wants to snap, to break this blank, emotionless façade _just to prove her wrong_. To prove that current Travelers are only replaced when they’re about to die, just as they do with any host. And it’s still so much more moral and understandable and forgiving than what the Faction does. But he can’t. He _refuses_ to. He won’t let the Faction win, even when he’s on his own.

“We wanna take the information that you just received about the future and put it to good use. What is _so wrong_ with that?”

He stays silent. In a mix of having nothing to say in response, and continuing with his lack of cooperation or letting Dawn try and connect with him in any way. Eventually, when he continues to keep quiet, she leaves. But she’s back minutes later, Kyle in tow.

“A gesture of good will.”

It isn’t until the door closes and locks that he finally lets himself feel anything other than anger and frustration, his concern for Kyle coming to the surface now that he’s able to actually see the other Historian. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What did they say to you?”

“They want me to tell them about the update.”

“Of course they do. They don’t have any Historians.”

“Did you tell them anything?”

“No. We can’t trust them.” The silent response he gets from Kyle immediately puts him on edge, certain something happened. Whether it was Kyle telling them anything from the update, or him potentially being the one they got to— _no_ , he can’t start thinking that. Not yet, anyway. A weird feeling from Kyle doesn’t mean he’s a traitor. He needs more information before he can decide if it’s an actual possibility. “Kyle…What did you tell them?”

He watches Kyle’s jaw work back and forth for a moment before he responds. “They just said they wanna help. They said if I gave them a TELL, they would save someone’s life to prove it. I just figured, worst case scenario, I help someone. Best case scenario, the Director sees a TELL was interfered with, and sends a Traveler team to look into it.”

As much as he understands Kyle’s reasoning—because it’s exactly something he would’ve considered himself at one point, too—he can’t let the other think this won’t have repercussions of some sort. It’s the Faction, and everything they do, no matter what it is, goes against the Grand Plan and the Director. “It’s not about saving one person.”

“What do we have to lose? The updates eventually kill you, you saw what happened--”

“You know what you signed up for,” he snaps, reminding Kyle of the oath they all took when they joined the Traveler program.

_At peril of our own birth._

Or eventual deaths.

“Do you regret saving Aleksander Andrieko?” The question catches Philip off guard, the change in subject not something he was expecting. “A lot of people agree with what you did.”

“You mean create a monster? I put myself and my team in danger.”

“It was the right thing to do. You know it was.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re right,” he mutters, shifting back to lean against the wall. A minute later, however, he gets up and swaps places with Kyle, needing the harder surface of the table, and not wanting to sit on the floor right now in case someone comes in. Eyes sliding shut in a half-hearted attempt to try and pass the time by meditating. He can already hear Trevor’s smug response in his head, and he can’t help but smile a little at it. And perhaps miss the other man a little bit more than he already does in his current situation. The meditation doesn’t do much, as usual, but he is able to calm himself down a bit after having gotten worked up some over his conversation with Kyle.

Dawn comes back in some time later, a tablet in hand, probably in an attempt to show off the _good will_ they’re trying to get across.

“How are you two doing?”

“I could use some of those yellow pills we’re supposed to take,” Kyle requests, which Philip finds a little odd, considering none of what’s happening to them right now should result in potential alternate timeline hallucinations since their kidnapping wasn’t a part of the update; there’s nothing around here to trigger a vision.

“I thought you’d never ask.” She pulls a bottle out of her back pocket and tosses it to the other Historian, followed by a second one for Philip, which he catches with ease and just stares at, not trusting anything she offers up.

“We’re nearing the time of the TELL you provided. I thought you might wanna see the result. If the information you gave is correct, it should be in about 30 seconds.”

Philip watches the two of them from his spot in the corner in a mix of disbelief, disinterest, and annoyance. Even if they do save whoever the TELL belongs to, it shouldn’t mean anything—it _doesn’t_ mean anything. They’re still the Faction and they’re still traitors to the Grand Plan.

“That truck was supposed to hit him,” Kyle says, meeting his gaze after watching the screen, the TELL having apparently passed.

“But instead, we changed history,” Dawn adds, making Philip want to roll his eyes. “A man would have died…but instead we saved his life. We’ve already erased the traffic cam footage. Working with us, Historians don’t have to carry the burden. We can act on it.”

“Until you get caught or overwritten,” Philip interjects, almost as a threat, but mostly intending for it to be a reminder of what the Director is capable of. “You can’t outrun the future.”

“We managed to get you here,” she adds before getting up to leave. “We can force you to tell us what you know. We just prefer it to be of your own accord.”

The feeling he gets as Dawn leaves is one that he wishes he could shake, but can’t. It’s uncomfortable, and it makes him reconsider what he knows about Kyle and his loyalty. He hasn’t been in the 21st nearly as long as Philip and his team has, plus he came from a time that the Faction existed in. There’s just something about Kyle’s cooperation with Dawn that rubs him the wrong way. Makes him think that Kyle might have actually been the one to lead the Faction to the update and to the Historians. He really doesn’t want it to be true, but he’s less willing to reconsider than he was before.

“Since we don’t know if we’re gonna get out of here or not, I’m gonna break Protocol Two,” Kyle says as soon as the door locks behind Dawn. He slides across the bed so he’s directly across from Philip and leans in close. “I came to the 21st after you. I mean, I studied you guys. The missions you did. Your team pulled off some serious shit.”

Shoulders drop, and he finds it weird, almost surreal, to hear someone else talk about his team’s work. “Yeah.”

“And _nothing_ got better, no matter what you did.”

“You know what I was thinking? This morning, the Director sent a Historian to an update knowing full well it would kill him.”

Kyle nods. “Brutal.”

“It led that poor bastard to his death. No update, no TELL.”

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m saying--”

“But we can’t seriously help the Faction.”

“Well, I saved that cop today. And all I had to do was tell them when and where a man was gonna die.”

“You also prevented a Traveler from arriving in the 21st.”

“Maybe, if the Director had chosen him as a candidate. But we don’t know.”

“And now we never will.”

“I mean, at the end of the day, how would you feel if you’d let Aleksander die the way he was supposed to?”

Philip doesn’t answer, because Kyle’s point is just straight up _wrong_ in the argument he’s trying to make. Aleksander was never going to be a host, so saving him wouldn’t have prevented a Traveler from arriving. He gets up and walks over to the door, pounding his fist against it to get the attention of whoever is outside. “Tell Dawn I’m ready to talk,” he explains once it’s open. The door closes again, and one of the guards walks away.

He’s back not even five minutes later, instructing Philip to follow. Which he does, playing the part of a finally cooperative hostage, bidding his time until he can find an ideal point to escape. It isn’t going to be easy, but just getting out of his cell is one step in the right direction. Next is finding a way from under their constant watch.

And he finds that chance in the newest room he finds himself in. Sitting at a table across from Dawn, no guards immediately in his view (he isn’t stupid enough to think there isn’t someone behind the obvious two-way mirror, watching them, but the placement of doors will give him enough time to put some distance between him and them when he does run).

“This only helps us monitor your vitals,” Dawn explains as the other guy in the room preps the items in question.

“Yeah, I know what it does.” Not the first time he’s seen any of this equipment, considering it was obviously stolen from some Traveler team. Hands raise as he leans over the table. “Left or right?”

“Left is good,” he’s prompted from the guy.

He starts to unbutton his sleeve and roll it up. “Left it is.”

As soon as the node is stuck to his arm, he grabs the guy’s wrist with his hand, pulls him down as he stands and jabs his right hand against the guy’s throat hard enough to choke him and knock him off balance in surprise. Using the chair as counter balance, Philip kicks the table away from himself and into Dawn, forcing her to get knocked back as well. Both of them distracted, he jumps up and gives the other guy a knee to the face for good measure, not wanting to take any chances that either of them might be able to follow after him. The guy collapses and Philip takes the opportunity to run, slamming the door shut behind him, locking them inside.

He darts down the hallway, turning this way and that as he reaches various intersections, trying to put as much distance between him and the Faction as possible, only slightly paying attention to where he’s actually going. At this point, he just needs to get away from them. He’ll eventually find his way out of the building.

Unfortunately, he isn’t paying close enough attention, because the next random turn he takes sends him running directly into Kyle. _And Luca._ He can only imagine how Hall must feel, knowing both of his teammates turned against him and the Grand Plan.

“I knew they got to you. Hall must’ve been disappointed. Not to mention how Trevor and Marcy are going to react when they realize both of you turned.” Because he knows his team, he knows both of them would feel the punch of betrayal harder than anyone else.

“Get on your knees. Hands up,” Kyle orders, and there’s only a moment of hesitation before Philip follows through, seeing no point in pushing back right now.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“The Director is failing, Philip.”

“There is no Grand Plan anymore,” Luca insists.

“So that’s it? You guys just call yourself Faction now?”

Kyle hums in confirmation. “You can, too.”

“Not really.” He’d rather get shot right here and now than ever consider turning against the Director, the Grand Plan, or his team.

“I wish you hadn’t said that.”

Philip prepares himself for the familiar pain of getting shot. But it never comes. Instead, gunshots ring out from down the hallway, dropping both Luca and Kyle almost immediately. When Carly and Jeff appear a second later, he lets out a huge sigh of relief.

“You good?” she asks as she walks towards him.

He jumps to his feet. “Yeah.” He is now, thanks to her. “There’s others.”

“We know.” He’s handed a gun as she talks over the comm, assumedly to the rest of their team. “We just found Philip. We’re coming. Find the Historians. _Jeff._ ”

They split off, Jeff and Carly towards where the rest of the fighting is probably going down, Philip towards the cells. He spots someone as he turns a corner and chases them down, catching up with them—turns out to be Dawn, which is exactly who he needs to find first—fairly easily. _He’s never going to admit it out loud, but those runs with Trevor is actually doing him some good._

“Don’t move!” he demands, gun trained on Dawn as soon as he catches her in the same hallway.

She stops immediately, hands raised. “We’re on the same side.”

“ _Shut the fuck up_ and give me the keys to the cells.”

Dawn slowly turns around to face him. “I understand that you have your doubts.”

“Keys. Now.”

This time she obeys and pulls them out of her jacket, leaning down to toss them across the floor at him. He catches them with his shoe, but doesn’t pick them up just yet, not trusting her to not do something while he’s distracted doing just that.

“They said you weren’t a murderer.”

“ _I’m not_. You’re going to face the Director.”

“Yeah, cause that’s somehow different? Look, how you reconcile my death is up to you. But I meant what I said. The future needs us to work together. _No, don’t!_ ”

Her sudden exclamation is more than enough for Philip to react, turning around immediately, pointing his gun down the hallway, and shooting it, all in one swift motion. The person that managed to sneak up behind him drops instantly, and Dawn disappears. Frustrated with that fact, Philip picks up the keys and turns his intentions back towards finding and freeing the other Historians now that he has the capability to. _He’ll deal with Dawn later, if he has the chance._

It takes a little maneuvering around the building, but eventually Philip finds the familiar looking hallways that led between the cells and the room they intended to “talk” with him in, and minutes later each of the other Historians are freed. Gun raised and ready to take anyone in their way down, he leads the group through the building until they finally run into the rest of the team.

\---

As soon as the fight is over, once everyone is certain there aren’t any Faction members left wandering around, Philip is being pulled into the tightest hug he’s ever experienced in his life. Granted, he doesn’t exactly have the biggest memory pool of said experiences, especially compared to the rest of his team, but he’s still very much grateful for the feeling of Trevor’s arms tight around him. His own arms circle around the other’s middle, though much looser, but no less relieved. “Sorry for worrying you,” he mumbles into Trevor’s shoulder, the slightly wet laugh he gets in response making him smile.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.” Trevor’s grip loosens, and he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against Philip’s, and they both take in a slow, deep breath. “You ruined the lazy day I had planned, sitting around watching movies all afternoon. Probably some more meditating.”

He laughs and hands grasp onto Trevor’s sleeves. “ _I_ ruined it? I didn’t exactly choose to get kidnapped. Again. We can watch at least one movie tonight, if you want. It’s going to take a while before I can relax enough to fall asleep.” Stepping back, he gives his partner an amused look. “We’ll see about the meditating part, though.”

Trevor’s hand slips into his and fingers lace together as they catch up with the rest of their team who have already filtered outside. Never once does their grip loosen, not through waiting for the other Historians to reunite with their own teams, not during the drive back home— _that_ was interesting, considering Trevor was the one driving, but they make it to the garage in one piece, so Philip can’t exactly complain about the constant contact. It’s only once they get inside the garage that they finally separate, but not until after he pulls the old man in for a languid kiss that lasts long enough for his lungs to start to burn a little. The warm smile he gets from Trevor in response is almost— _almost_ —enough to fix everything that happened today. And the warm, callused palm pressed against his cheek has him humming in response, head tilting just slightly into the touch before turning to press a quick kiss to Trevor’s thumb.

“I’ll make us some dinner. You’re probably hungry.”

As if on cue, Philip’s stomach growls, making both of them laugh. “Yeah, I could eat.”

“Wait ‘til you try my veggie stir-fry. It’s all about the spices,” Trevor proclaims, pulling away to move towards the kitchen area.

He grins, having heard from Carly about Trevor’s last attempt at making the aforementioned dish. “Sounds good. I’ll give you a hand with that in a sec.” His smile disappears as he turns around, though, and spots the medical equipment set up in the open area of the garage. Hall’s death was part of the update, but the culprit still unknown at the time. It’s actually one of the things Philip’s been dreading since this morning, seeing the aftermath of something he had no way of helping prevent, despite the rest of his team being involved. And finding out Kyle and Luca were the ones responsible was just an added stab to the chest.

That _burden_ Dawn mentioned.

As much as he hates to agree with _anything_ the Faction says or does, he can’t exactly argue with this one specific part. The toll that these updates take on him, knowing the futures of everyone he’s even remotely close to. _Yes_ , things are always changing from one update to the next, but between those updates, he still knows, and he still fears for what’s going to happen. Obviously not _everything_ , as usual, but it’s enough to make his mind heavy with the burden.

Walking into the bathroom, Philip stares at his reflection for a long moment. Eventually, he takes the bottle of pills out of his pocket, pops open the lid, and takes one out with the intent of taking it. Even if they came from Dawn, he believes Kyle wouldn’t have taken one himself if he wasn’t sure they were the real thing. Though he still pauses before taking the pill, silently debating with himself.

If he doesn’t take the pill—doesn’t take _any_ of the pills—then his hallucinations will come back, he won’t be 100% certain which timeline is the correct one, which path the future will take. The burden of knowing everything won’t be there. There will be certain things, certain events, that will always be crystal clear in his mind, since some things are solid, stable points in time, but not everything. Decision made, he tosses the single pill into the toilet, followed by the rest from the bottle, and flushes.

No more pills. No more 100% certainty. Less burden.

\---

“I tossed them out. The pills.” They’re curled up together on the chairs in front of the TV, a movie playing on the screen, but Philip is only half paying attention to it. He’s more focused on the comfort of Trevor’s chest against his back and arms wrapped around him and the blanket draped over the both of them, keeping them warm.

“What? Why? I know we didn’t exactly respond the best to--”

He shakes his head, interrupting Trevor’s thoughts. “No, no, that’s not why I got rid of them. You wouldn’t understand. None of you would. And I’m not saying that to sound like some asshole, but it’s the truth.” Fingers start to card through his hair, and he smiles, knowing its Trevor’s way of saying he doesn’t hold Philip’s thoughts against him. “I know things that none of you do, or possibly ever will, and it wasn’t much of a problem before. Not until I started knowing things _about_ you guys.” He falls silent for a moment as he takes a deep breath, eyes closing for a second before opening again. “It’s just easier this way. Mentally, anyway. At least I hope it will be.”

Trevor stays quiet, continues to play with his hair, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable in any way. It doesn’t cause Philip to worry about what he might be thinking. “I froze up again today. When we were coming to rescue you.”

That gets Philip’s attention, and he disentangles himself from Trevor in order to sit up properly and look at the other man, worry and dread returning in full. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Phil. I just froze up. I was lucky enough to be hiding when it happened, so I wasn’t in any danger. I’m telling you this because I wanted you to know, not to worry you.”

“Yeah, well, that didn’t work very well. You know I’m going to worry about you, old man.”

Trevor smiles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He leans in to steal a kiss, humming against Trevor’s lips as fingers find their way into his hair once again. Pulling back a moment later, he gets comfortable once more against the other’s body, their attention drawing back to the movie, until eventually Philip falls asleep right there, finally comfortable and calm enough to do so.


	7. Trevor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for a roller coaster of feels.  
> And a tw/cw for a mention of allusion to self harm

Despite the various timelines that have been running through his mind, this isn’t quite how Philip expected to learn about just _what exactly_ is wrong with Trevor. Sure, the other has been giving him small details here and there about his freeze up moments, but nothing definitive.

He certainly didn’t realize that Trevor _knows_ what’s happening to him.

“The doctors called it temporal displacement aphasia,” Trevor explains. Philip doesn’t know how Mac can just sit there and listen, while he’s pacing back and forth in the space between the other two, unable to sit still as he takes in all this new information. “You see, it degrades the ability to perceive the passage of time. So I might think a second’s gone by, when in reality, minutes have passed. Eventually, I’ll get so locked in, it’ll be like I’m catatonic.”

He’s seen flickers of such a possible outcome, thanks to his visions, but he’s always tried to ignore those ones the most. Still, the possibility makes his skin crawl, especially hearing Trevor voice it.

“I’ve never heard of this,” Mac says, somehow as calm and collected as he always is.

“That’s ‘cause there’s only been one other case. It was the previous record holder for the longest living human.”

“You’re saying this only happens to people who’ve had multiple hosts?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that was the theory. The first case took a long time to manifest. It’s happening way faster with me. Boss, I never meant to jeopardize the mission. I thought I still had time.”

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” Philip finally jumps in, unable to stand there and just listen.

He gets no response from Trevor, and Mac’s phone buzzes just then, interrupting them.

\---

“He’s been in there a long time.” And he fucking _hates it_. The rest of the team being kept out of the room—and out of listening distance—while Trevor talks with the Director. It’s just the two of them, and none of them know what’s going on.

Marcy shakes her head. “What could they be talking about?”

“The fact that he’s talking to the Director at all is incredible,” Mac says, obviously in awe of the situation, _despite the situation_.

It’s only another minute or two before Trevor finally turns around, away from Ilsa, and Philip notices it immediately. “They’re done.” They hover around the door as Philip opens it, piling into the room, filled with anticipation.

“So?” Carly prompts.

It takes a moment for Trevor to respond, which causes Philip to glance back at Ilsa’s cage before staring questioningly at the Engineer. “Uh, we discussed what’s been happening with me. I was right. I have early onset temporal aphasia. Probably triggered by the AI extraction process I underwent.”

“Okay. How do I cure it?”

“You don’t, Marce. You can’t.”

“The Director _must_ have a plan?” Mac asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, it does. Everything’s gonna work out.”

“So you’re still gonna be able to do missions?” Philip asks, hoping this means things aren’t as gloomy as everyone’s worried they might be.

“Nah. No more missions for me.” _Well that’s not the answer he was looking for._ “See, my symptoms are progressing at an accelerated rate. The breaks in time I’ve been experiencing are gonna get worse. Soon I’ll be locked in for hours at a time, then days. I won’t be of any use to the Traveler program.”

Mac scoffs. “So, what the hell were you talking about for so long?”

Trevor lets out a half-hearted chuckle. “Half the time, I was just trying to say it wasn’t its fault. It feels responsible.”

“It _is_ responsible,” Philip points out, surprised that anyone would think otherwise.

“No point laying blame. I’ve always known this is how I was gonna die. The Director and I have come up with an arrangement. I’ve lived enough lifetimes.”

He doesn’t like the feeling he’s getting from Trevor’s words, from his confidence in whatever he and the Director talked about. Considering some of the alternate timelines he’s been seeing and the outcomes of them, nothing good can follow whatever Trevor’s about to say.

“This host is still young and healthy. The Director is gonna send a new Traveler into this body. It’s okay, guys. It’s--”

“ _No_ , it’s not okay!” Philip nearly yells, just barely holding himself back. Although Carly does have to actually hold him back as he half attempts to move towards Ilsa’s cage. “I wanna talk to it. It’s not supposed to be capable of taking a life.”

“I’ve agreed to it, Philip. It’s done.”

He wants to argue, to fight back _so badly_ , but any words he wants to get out are caught in his throat, almost as if Carly’s hand on his shoulder is holding them back as well. The giant knot in his throat isn’t helping matters, either. Honestly, he’s surprised he hasn’t completely broken down right there, in front of his team.

“When?” Carly asks next to him, and he can’t believe how casually she asks, almost as if she’s accepted any of this asinine deal.

“I have 36 hours to get my affairs in order.”

“36 hours? What the hell, Trev! _No_ , this is bullshit. How can we just stand here and do _nothing_?” he asks, turning towards the rest of their team, eyes wide in disbelief as the other three stay silent. “You guys can’t seriously be okay with this?”

“Philip,” Marcy quietly calls out his name, the way she normally does when trying to get him to calm down. It isn’t any help, only making him angrier that _no one else_ seems upset by this.

“Guys, this is--” And Trevor freezes.

A distressed noise escapes Philip before he can cover his mouth with his hand, but luckily it seems to have gone mostly unnoticed by the others thanks to Marcy’s conveniently timed reaction. “Oh, god, Trevor.”

Carly’s palm sliding into his and the following squeeze is the only hint that he was heard. It’s almost too much for him to handle, and he’s seconds away from storming out of the room when Trevor comes back to them.

“—good news. You’re getting a new Engineer. The team will be taken care of.”

Philip yanks his hand out of Carly’s grasp and steps forward, but still leaving a painful amount of distance between him and Trevor. “ _Fuck that_. None of us want a new Engineer, Trev.”

“Come on, Phil. We made a promise we wouldn’t let our relationship get in the way of the Grand Plan or our missions.”

“This isn’t about _you and me_ ,” he refutes, jaw clenching in frustration. “This is about all five of us. As a team. The only reason we work as well as we do is because it’s _us_. Dropping some new Traveler into the middle of this is going to fuck everything up. We won’t know _anything_ about them. We won’t know who the fuck they are. _Nothing_. How is that _good news_?”

The others stay quiet, either having nothing else to add or unwilling to get in the middle. He’s never gone off like this before, and it’s just as surprising to himself as he’s sure it is to the other four. But he refuses to stand by and just let Trevor leave them all behind without saying something.

“And 36 hours?” His voice cracks, and he has to blink back tears at the given deadline. “How could you agree to that? Despite how _stupid_ all of this is, you couldn’t even agree to having more time before ditching us like this?”

“The Director was insistent on it. I couldn’t change its mind, even if I wanted to.”

And that’s where Philip reaches his breaking point. As much as he doesn’t want to lose Trevor, doesn’t want the team to lose him, he can’t deal with this anymore. Not when he seems so determined to see it through. So he turns, pushes his way past Mac, and leaves before he says something he’ll regret.

“Philip!” Marcy’s voice rings out behind him, but he doesn’t stop. Not until he’s back outside. Far away from the rest of the team. Except for the tiny, determined, blonde that’s followed after him.

Crouched down against the wall, hands run through his hair as he tries to steady his breathing, which became erratic at some point without his noticing. Plus, he’s able to hide his face some as Marcy drops down in front of him, a hand rubbing up and down his arm and shoulder. “How can he do this?” he asks, voice rough and throat tight from emotions he’s trying to hold back. But, judging by the burning sensation behind his eyes, he isn’t doing a very good job of it. “How can he be so okay with any of this?”

“I don’t know,” she offers. “He has his reasons, Philip, and I can’t imagine how much that hurts you, but I do believe he’s doing what he thinks is the best for all of us.”

“We can’t lose him, Marce. We won’t be the same without him.”

“I know,” she agrees, saying it in a way that implies she sees past his words, understands what he isn’t saying, what’s he’s _afraid_ to say. Her hand leaves his shoulder and brushes across his cheek, wiping off tears he hasn’t realized have escaped, causing him to look up at her. “None of us want to lose him, but what exactly can we do? You know we’d all fight to save him if there was an option.”

“I know,” he echoes, a palm hastily wiping away fresh tears before they can fall.

 “How about you and I walk back to Ops? Give you some time to clear your head before getting home?”

It’s amazing, really, how well Marcy knows him. That he isn’t ready to face Trevor again, not just yet, not with how upset and angry he is right now. But there’s no way he’d ever be able to forgive himself if they don’t talk things through and attempt to patch things up before he’s possibly gone forever.

He nods once. “Yeah, okay.” Pushing off the wall, he stands and stretches his now sore legs.

“Hey, Philip and I are going to walk back to Ops. You guys can take the van.” There’s a pause as she listens to whatever response she gets back. “We will.” Turning off her comm, she smiles at him. “Carly says she’ll check in on you later, Trevor says he’ll see you when you get home, and Mac says be careful on the walk home.”

\---

By the time they make it back to Ops, Philip has calmed down considerably. He’s still upset and still hates the deal Trevor made, but he’s at a place where he knows he’ll be able to look at the Engineer and not just completely break apart and start yelling at him again.

Marcy offers up a hug and kisses his cheek. “Don’t do anything you’ll end up regretting,” she reminds him before heading back towards the street to go home.

It’s another moment before he steps through the door and into the garage, preparing himself for whatever reaction he’s going to get from Trevor. What he doesn’t expect, though, is for his return home to trigger his visions.

_Trevor asleep on the couch. In the kitchen, snacking on an apple. Walking down the stairs from the loft, backpack and jacket in hand._

The real Trevor, though, is leaning over Poppy’s tank, feeding her what looks like those shrimp treats that she loves. “What did I tell you about spoiling my turtle?”

Quiet, gravelly laughter fills the air and he smiles in response, letting it linger as Trevor glances over at him. “Poppy deserves a little extra love every once in a while.”

Hands shove into his front pockets, not really sure what else to do with them. “Never said she didn’t. But she’s definitely going to notice the severe lack of extra treats if you’re gone.” _If_ , because he still refuses to accept Trevor’s deal as final. Not until the 36 hours are up and he’s no longer here.

Trevor steps around the table and tank, closing the distance between them until they’re close enough to touch. “How are you?”

“Still angry at you,” he admits, knowing Trevor will want him to be honest. “But I don’t have the constant urge to yell at you, so better than earlier. The walk home with Marcy really helped.”

A hand cautiously reaches out and wraps around his wrist, but Trevor doesn’t do anything more until he pulls his hand free himself. Immediately, Trevor’s hand wraps around his and pulls their entwined hands closer in order to press a kiss to the back of Philip’s fingers. And his hand. And his wrist. All the while maintaining eye contact. The combined actions sends chills through Philip’s entire body, brows furrowing in confusion. “Trev…what are you doing?”

Another kiss against the back of his hand. “Trying to figure out how I can possibly say--” He freezes, and it’s like a jab to Philip’s heart. But he isn’t going to move, not until Trevor comes back to him. “--‘I’m sorry’ for hurting you as badly as I have with this deal.”

His breath hitches, lips parted as he tries to think of _something_ to say in response. But he can’t, so closes his mouth instead.

“I’m sure you were probably hoping to spend the rest of the night just the two of us, talking, and I _do_ want to try and help you understand my reasons for my decision. But, I also need to let Grace know what’s happening, and explaining everything more than once is something I’d rather not do. I know she isn’t your favorite person, but I was hoping you’d be willing to put your feelings about her aside for a couple hours so I can do what I need to do? Over dinner?”

Fingers flex against Trevor’s grip, but doesn’t otherwise move for a moment. Eventually he nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Just the smile that he gets from Trevor in response is more than enough of a reward for his willingness to cooperate. “Once she leaves, it’ll be just you and me. Make the best of the time we have left.”

The hand not caught in Trevor’s grip curls into the front of his shirt and pulls him in for a proper kiss. It’s short lived, but it’s enough for him for now. “Get ahold of Grace. I’m going to take a shower.”

A brow quirks. “Want some company?”

Philip rolls his eyes. “Normally I’d say ‘yes’, but I know you’ll just be preoccupied with other things. I won’t be long.” Another quick peck and he disentangles himself from Trevor’s hold.

\---

“I don’t know how _either_ of you can consider a plate full of nothing but fries _dinner_ ,” Philip comments from where he’s sprawled across the couch, watching Trevor in the kitchen. “I mean, I know you guys have a weird obsession with the food in this century, but this is taking it a little too far.”

His phone beeps, drawing his attention back to it as the other laughs. “I make sure to enjoy the things I like, despite what _others_ might think.”

          **Carly: Hey, how are you holding up?**

_Philip: Doing alright. For now. Trev and I are going to sit down and talk in a little bit._

**Good. Don’t do or say anything stupid.**

_Have you and Marcy been talking about me again?_

**No, but we both know you well enough, Phil.**

**Just don’t forget how much he means to you, no matter how angry you might be with the situation.**

_Easier said than done. Considering the reason I’m so angry is because of how much he means to me._

**Make sure he knows that.**

_I’m pretty sure he already does._

**Make sure he does, Philip. Tell him.**

He doesn’t respond right away, thumbs tapping against the phone’s screen as his mind wanders for a few minutes, thinking over Carly’s suggestion.

_Okay. I will._

**Good. Go talk. Let me know if you need me for anything, otherwise I’ll see you in 30ish hours.**

Letting their conversation end there, he slips his phone back into his pocket and lets his gaze wander around the garage.

_There’s a small table set up in the middle of the open area, candles burning and only two place settings. Trevor walks over to it, setting down a bowl of fries in the middle, his clothes a lot more formal looking, with a button-up shirt and tie. He glances up towards the doorway-_

“-‘s going to be here soon,” Trevor’s voice suddenly comes from right in front of him as he’s physically shaken out of the hallucination. “You okay?”

“What? Uh- yeah, I’m fine. Just another timeline vision,” he explains, eyes slowly focusing on the face now directly in front of his own. Reaching out, he brushes a thumb across the concerned creases etched into Trevor’s forehead, offering up a tired smile. “What were you saying?”

His hand is pulled down by the wrist and a kiss is left against his palm. “I was saying that Grace will be here soon.”

He hums in response, gently pulling free of Trevor’s grasp so he can run fingers along the collar of his partner’s sweater and down his chest an inch or two before dropping away, following the movement with his eyes before his gaze is being drawn back up to Trevor’s face due to the concern in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I am, for right now,” Philip reassures him. “Just trying to make the most of the time we have left.” The smile and kiss he gets in return makes him think that _just maybe_ things will be okay in the end.

“Y’know when you invite someone over at a specific time, you probably shouldn’t be doing anything you wouldn’t want to get caught doing,” Grace’s voice interrupts, causing Philip to groan as Trevor turns towards the doorway. “Unless you _wanted_ to get caught…”

“ _Ew_. No. Why does everything with you always end up going _there_?” He doesn’t bother hiding the annoyance and slight disgust he’s feeling over her chosen entrance, and the look he gets from Trevor does little to dissipate either. “What? Am I wrong?”

Grace shrugs and walks into the garage, unperturbed. “Hey, I’m down for that kind of party if you guys are.”

The hand on his shoulder is the only thing that keeps Philip silent—and keeps him from getting up to storm in her direction in an attempt to throw her out—the almost pleading look from Trevor quickly dissipating his burst of anger.

“I invited you over for dinner, Grace,” Trevor explains, stepping away from the couch and Philip to intercept their guest.

Brows raise. “Dinner? With both of you? He,” she motions towards Philip, “doesn’t even like me as far as I’m aware. And you,” her hand now waving in Trevor’s direction, “have basically avoided me since I spilled the beans about knowing about the two of you, except for when your _team_ needs me.”

“I haven’t been avoiding you. Not intentionally. I wanted you to have dinner with me—with us, because I wanted to spend time with you.” He pauses, and Philip can feel the weight of Trevor’s thoughts from across the room. “And to say goodbye.”

Grace stares at him, any level of amusement or happiness completely disappearing from her face. “What?”

\---

He spaces out throughout most of Trevor’s explanation of what’s happened in the last few days. Having to live through it is more than enough, having to listen to it all get explained again is more than he can handle right now. But he promised Trevor he’d be a part of this, while Grace is filled in, and he can’t break that promise.

So, he sits at the table, gaze unfocused as it wanders around the garage, the distant sound of Trevor’s voice filling the otherwise quiet room. It’s only when Grace’s frustrated voice cuts in that his full attention is drawn back, partially out of surprise and partially because he’s glad that there’s _finally_ someone else even remotely as upset as he is about all this. Even if that someone is _her_.

“I can’t _believe_ you would make that deal with the Director. I can’t believe the Director would even propose a deal like that to you. I don’t even know which one of you I’m more mad at right now.”

“ _See_? I’m not the only one that realizes how bullshit this whole deal is.”

“ _Thank you._ And how the hell are you so calm about all this?”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve gone through this.” Both Philip and Grace stare at Trevor, confused and impatiently waiting for an explanation. “My wife and I were the first two successful consciousness transfers. And the first successful repeated transfers. Three times, we jumped bodies, over the course of three lifetimes. No matter the differences in our hosts’ ages, in how we looked compared to previous bodies, nothing changed between us. None of the differences mattered. We were soulmates, through and through. She was my whole life.”

He knows the basics of 0115’s history, of the things he’s done for the Traveler Program to become as successful as it has, but this is the first time Philip has ever heard him talk about his wife in more than just passing. It isn’t easy, listening to any of this. But he isn’t stupid. When things first started between him and Trevor, he knew whatever developed would _never_ compare to what he had with his wife. Three lifetimes is impossible to even consider competing with, and he’s been willing, since the beginning, to take whatever Trevor deems him worthy of receiving.

“And, up until now, she was the first and only case of temporal aphasia.”

“I remember the Director trying to work the problem.”

He’s grateful for Grace’s ability to still respond, because he’s practically frozen in place, emotions going crazy inside his head, inside his chest, and just the thought of voicing even one of the dozens of thoughts running through his mind terrifies him.

_Don’t do or say anything stupid._

_Don’t do anything you’ll end up regretting._

The girls’ voices echoing in his mind helps calm him down a little. He shifts in his seat, turning to the side a bit and bending a leg to rest his foot across the other knee, his hand lays flat against the tabletop and he has to resist the urge to tap his fingers against the cool surface.

“So you remember that the disease is incurable. I watched someone I love disappear first for moments, then hours, then days. Then, eventually, she never came back again.” He doesn’t miss the distinct motion of Trevor turning to look at him, and a heaviness settles in his chest when their eyes meet. “Having experienced what I experienced, I can’t in good conscience let the people I care about spend any more time than necessary having to live through it.”

He blinks back tears and has to swallow down the knot of emotion that builds in his throat, and shakes his head once. “I’d willingly live through it if it means even just one more day with you, Trev.”

“I know you would, Philip, and that’s my point.” A hand settles on top of his, fingers curling under his palm. “I’m happy--”

There’s no point in trying to hide the anguish that hits him, and he looks over at Grace, who’s just as visibly upset. “Tell me there’s something you can do, Grace. _Please_.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Philip.”

“—with my decision.” Both pairs of eyes dart back to Trevor, neither of them hiding their emotions. “It just happened again.”

“Yeah,” they both confirm.

“It’s just gonna keep happening. This way, I can save everyone the pain. I hope you can respect that.” Trevor is met with silence from both of them, and it’s only a short moment before Philip is pulling his hand out of Trevor’s grasp once more and standing. “Philip? Wh-”

Hands flex as he steps away from the table, stopping, gaze on the floor in front of him. “I’m going outside. I just-” Breathes out steadily through his nose. “I need space to think right now. By myself. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“Okay.”

He ends up in the van. Still on the property, having not wandered off like promised, but secluded. And can finally just…fall apart. Knees pulled up, arms wrapped around and face pressed against them, he cries. Letting loose and losing control of his emotions so completely like this is so foreign to him, but he can’t stop it. Growing up, dealing with and expressing emotions weren’t exactly fostered, considering Historians are expected to look at everything logically (more so than any other group of Travelers). Then here, in the 21st, he _thought_ he had a good enough handle on them, even despite everything he’s suffered through.

Apparently not, if the intensity of emotions overwhelming him right now is anything to go by. He’s genuinely startled by it, unaware of just how strong his feelings for Trevor, and the fear of losing him, are.

His chest hurts and eyes burn, but his crying has finally gone silent, the only sound in the van that of shaky breaths as he tries to steady himself once more. Until there’s a sudden, loud pounding on the window, making him jump. Hastily wiping at his eyes, he turns to see Grace standing there. She looks… _determined_ , and it throws him off.

“Open the door, Philip.” When he doesn’t react immediately, she waves her hands in that impatient way that drives him crazy. “ _Now_. Trust me, you’ll wanna hear what I have to say.”

He’s slow to uncurl from his position, and open the door, but eventually he’s standing in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. “What do you want?”

She grins. “I have an idea. I’ll need to look into a few things first, but I might have a way to save him. _Well_ , severely slow down the disease, anyway.” Philip’s silent, jaw slack, not entirely sure how to respond. He’s absolutely in shock, wanting more than anything to put every ounce of faith he can muster up into this. “I haven’t told him anything yet, but I’ll have answers tomorrow morning.” Then, she reaches out and squeezes his arms, a lot more gently than he would’ve ever expected from her. “Don’t give up yet, Philip. This might not be the end. You and Trev just might get all the time together you could ever want.”

“What?”

Grace scoffs, eyes rolling. “I know you’re not that dumb. And neither am I. Despite my feelings towards Trevor, I could never compete with what you two have. It’s something special— _your own version of special_ —and that’s not something you’ll want to give up on.” Her smile returns, patting his arm. “Keep an eye on him for me while I figure this thing out. ‘Kay?”

“Uh- yeah, okay.”

And just like that, she practically spins around and disappears towards the street, leaving a very bewildered and even more confused Philip standing there, staring after her. Shaking off the _weirdness_ , he walks back into the garage. Trevor is cleaning up the remnants of their dinner, his back turned to Philip. So he walks as quietly as he can across the garage to the sink and slips his arms around the Engineer, face burying itself against his back. A hand rubs comfortingly along his arm, but Trevor doesn’t break the silence. Neither of them do.

They stay like that until the dishes are taken care of.  Only then does Trevor turn in his embrace and wrap his arms around Philip’s shoulders in return. The silence continues as they hold onto each other, foreheads pressed together.

“I’m afraid,” he eventually whispers his admission. Fingers curl into the back of Trevor’s sweater. “Of losing you and how it’s going to affect me.”

The warmth around his shoulders disappears, just as swiftly replaced with the familiar, comforting sensation of Trevor playing with his hair. “You’ll get through it, Philip. Eventually. The rest of the team will be there for you. You won’t be alone. It’s more than I had when I lost my wife to this.”

Philip swallows, Carly’s insistent messages flashing in the back of his mind. “But you had three lifetimes with someone you loved before losing them. I’ll only have months.”

When Trevor pulls back, he starts to panic, certain he’s said the wrong thing, until he’s being kissed. The intensity nearly blows him over, and he’s convinced it would’ve if it wasn’t for Trevor’s grip on his hair, holding him in place.

\---

The garage is still dark when he’s woken up by Trevor’s moving around, and it takes him a moment to figure out just what the Engineer is doing. “Going somewhere?” he half-mumbles, still mostly asleep, as he shifts towards the other, a hand reaching out to trail fingers across Trevor’s bare back.

“To the lake,” Trevor answers, making his brows furrow. “I want to watch the sunrise one last time.” He shifts, turns towards Philip, and fingers drag through sleep tangled hair. “Would you like to join me?”

Philip snorts. “Trevor, I love you, but I’m not dragging my ass out of bed when it’s still dark outside. Not even for you.” The laugh he gets in response makes him smile. “Go enjoy your sunrise, old man. Let me know when you’re heading back and I’ll start on breakfast for us.”

“I will. Get some more sleep.” Trevor leans down and gives him a short kiss, offering up a softly spoken “and I love you, too,” before turning his attention to finding a shirt.

Despite the both of them admitting such feelings last night—repeatedly, and mixed in with _other things_ —hearing and knowing Trevor feels the same makes his heart race and warms his entire body. He falls back asleep almost instantly, curled up with his partner’s abandoned pillow.

The next thing Philip knows, he’s being startled awake by a loud, obnoxious pounding on the front door. He groans, rolls over, and tries to ignore it, act like he isn’t home. Maybe whoever it is will go away if he doesn’t answer.

“Trevor!” Grace’s slightly muffled voice follows another round of knocking. “Let me in, damn it. Don’t leave me standing out here, it’s rude.”

Knowing she isn’t going to go away anytime soon, he drags himself out of bed and hastily gets dressed. He’s pretty sure he’s grabbed one of Trevor’s shirts instead of his own, but he’s too annoyed to really care right now. Besides, with the hoodie he’s pulling on, it’s not like anyone else is going to notice.

He pulls the front door open before she can give him a headache from the noise. “What’s rude is showing up at someone’s house without warning at-” he glances at his watch, “-8 am and acting as obnoxious as humanly possible.” Grace tries to shove herself past him, but he blocks her path before she can get more than a step. “Trev isn’t here.”

“Well where the hell is he, then?”

“He went down to the lake.”

“Why?”

“Because he wanted to. Either go find him down there, or go home and wait for him to get back. Either way, go somewhere that isn’t here.”

“Are you not even going to ask why I’m here?”

“I assume it has something to do with whatever _thing_ you had to look into. Talk to Trevor about it before talking to me. His opinion on whatever it is is the only one that matters.”

Arms cross and she stares at him. “You seem a whole lot more calm about all this than you did last night. What happened?”

“We talked.”

“About what?”

“That’s none of your business. Per usual. I’m going back inside. Better get to the lake before he decides to leave.” He gives her only a short moment before he closes the door and locks it, figuring she’ll get the message at that point.

\---

As much as he wants to jump around in happiness over the fact that they just might be able to finish Trevor’s work from the future and keep him with them, Philip is too focused to do anything other than whatever Grace needs him to. Working on building the component. Taking turns keeping an eye on Trevor and recording the data they need. It isn’t until after the component is built, and given Trevor’s approval, that he finally allows himself to slow down a little bit. He’s never far from the Engineer’s side, whether Trevor is awake or not, and takes every chance he can to just _talk_ with Trevor.

“You should take a break, eat something,” Marcy insists, sitting down next to him, a hand settling on his shoulder. Trevor is about an hour into his most recent freeze, and Philip hasn’t moved from his seat, not wanting to let go of his partner’s hand.

He shakes his head. “I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten _anything_ since we got here, Philip. You can’t do this to yourself.” Her hand leaves his shoulder and wraps around his and Trevor’s entwined hands, giving them a light squeeze. “He isn’t going anywhere. We’re making sure of that. Besides, you know he’d want you to take care of yourself.”

Sighing, he rubs his free hand across his face, because he knows she’s right. Trevor won’t want him to forego his own needs, especially over him. “Okay, fine.”

Marcy smiles. “Carly has some food for you. I’ll stay here with Trevor.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Once he’s standing and free of Trevor’s grip, she pulls him into a short hug before gently pushing him towards the table where Carly, Mac, and a pile of take-out are stationed.

_Feet stumble over each other as they blindly move through the garage, mouths fused together as they kiss like it’s the end of the world and this is their last chance to be together, even though they have all the time in the world now. They break apart long enough for him to yank Trevor’s shirt off, throwing it somewhere else, out of the way. Hands roam across his now bare chest as Trevor hastily works open the buttons on his shirt. Laughter breaks out when they bump against the corner of the doorway to Philip’s old room, but it doesn’t deter either of them. Instead, he adjusts their path with hands around Trevor’s hips and they disappear inside._

A small smile appears as he watches the vision, awkwardly stopped halfway to the table, and unaware of everyone else staring at him.

“Philip?” Carly pulls him out of his bubble with her questioning tone. “You okay?”

He meets her concerned gaze and offers up an apologetic smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking.” It’s not entirely false, but it’s easier to say than having to explain the whole hallucination thing to the rest of the team right now. They’ve got more important things to worry about.

Sitting down at the table, he reaches for the closest take-out box, not caring what’s inside, and digs in. Turns out, he’s a lot hungrier than he thought, and it doesn’t take him long before he’s starting on a second container that Carly helpfully pushes in his direction with an encouraging look.

\---

_Everything hurts. The parts of him that aren’t numb, anyway. The surgery didn’t work, despite Marcy’s best efforts. It’s silent in the garage, Philip long since gone quiet in his grief. The only thing keeping him together at the moment are the two pairs of arms wrapped around him, Carly’s soft whispers in his ear reminding him that he isn’t alone. He thinks he can hear Marcy singing on the other side of him, but everything else besides Carly’s voice is so muffled he isn’t entirely certain. Mac’s shoes are the only part of their team leader he can see, planted firmly on the ground wherever it is he’s sitting across from the three of them on the couch. He clings to the girls’ arms around him, but it doesn’t help. Not as much as he needs it to. Emotions swell in his chest again before—_

“ _No_ -” He’s startled awake, heart racing as someone catches him before he falls completely out of his chair. Eyes sweep across the room, wide as they land on Mac—the one who apparently kept him from falling onto the floor.

“It was just a dream, Philip.”

“Wh- uh, yeah- a dream,” he agrees, wiping the back of his hand across his face. It was a dream, but it was also one of the handful of visions he’s had over the last few days involving Trevor’s potential fates. And it’s definitely the worst one, without question. “How long have I been asleep?”

“A couple hours. Passed out almost as soon as you finished the third carton of food.”

“Everything okay over there?” Trevor’s voice cuts in, immediately drawing his attention to the Engineer.

Philip pulls himself out of Mac’s hold and returns to Trevor’s side, fingers ghosting across his jaw. “How’re you doing?”

“It’s…weird,” Trevor admits with a shrug. “Never really understood what she went through until now. Not sure which side of this I dislike more.”

“Good thing we’re almost done,” Grace chips in from the computer. He’d almost forgotten she was there, with how surprisingly quiet she’s been. “Just gotta hang in there a little longer, Trev.”

His hand gets caught in Trevor’s and they smile at each other. “I’m doing my best.”

\---

“Alright,” Grace announces as Trevor comes out of his most recent freeze. “That should be enough data for Ilsa to work with.”

Ten minutes later, Mac and Grace are off to meet Teslia, and Carly and Marcy are huddled in a corner of the garage, giving the two of them a little bit of privacy at the table to talk.

“I couldn’t have made it better myself,” Trevor praises, making him smile.

“Let’s just hope it works.”

 “What if it doesn’t? What if all of this was for nothing? There’s still a chance I won’t make it out of this, Phil.”

“At least we tried something.”

“But would it have been worth it? What you said last night- about being afraid-”

Philip shakes his head. “No, Trev. I mean, _yeah_ , I’m still terrified that this might not work. But it’ll be easier to deal with it knowing we actually _tried_ than just give up.” Fingers tap against the tabletop for a moment. “I won’t be carrying around the guilt of giving up I would’ve had if we didn’t do any of this.”

“Phil-”

“The dream I had earlier? It was of one of the visions I’ve had about this. We lost you. It didn’t work, and we lost you for good. And it fucking _hurt_ , I won’t lie, but there wasn’t an ounce of guilt in all that pain. And I know you know me well enough to know what guilt does to me. How badly I react to it. Remember Aleksander? Losing you and doing nothing to try and prevent it when we had the possibility to would’ve led me down the exact same path. Only I would’ve made it absolutely certain I succeeded this time.”

Silence falls between them as the heaviness of his admission hangs in the air. Trevor reaches across the table and laces their fingers together. “If I make it through this, remind me to-”

He sighs, pulls his hand free, and moves around the table to press a kiss to Trevor’s forehead before going to join the girls, not wanting to be alone with his current thoughts right now.

\---

“So?” Philip inquires as soon as Grace and Mac return from Teslia’s lab. He and the girls crowd around Trevor, still frozen at the table.

“The Director has given its consent to let us go through with the procedure,” Mac explains. “We did it. We changed its mind. At first I wasn’t so sure it would, but it worked.”

“What are you all waiting for?” Grace nearly barks out, making everyone jump. “Get on with it! Stop standing around and get this thing going! We’ve got an Engineer to save.”

\---

Everyone’s hovering around Trevor as he comes out of sedation, Marcy keeping him calm as he does so.

“How do you feel?” Mac asks.

Trevor groans. “Tired.” He looks around at everyone, obviously confused. “What’s going on?”

Marcy smiles. “The procedure was successful.”

Philip’s smile grows when their eyes meet, and he steps forward as Trevor sits up, reaching behind his ear to feel the implant now in place. Philip’s hand settles on his knee, visibly relieved that everything worked out.

“The Director-?”

“It consented,” Grace confirms. “We managed to change its mind. Took a little convincing, but I’m pretty persuasive when I want to be.”

“Alright, that’s Protocol 5,” Mac interjects after a moment of silence and everyone moves to head out.

Marcy’s hand settles on Trevor’s arm. “Let me know if anything feels off. Anything at all.” She looks up at Philip. “And you let me or Carly know if you need anything.”

He smiles. “I will. Thanks, Marce.”

Five minutes later, the garage is empty save for its usual occupants, both still in their same spots at the operating table. “How are you feeling?”

“Head’s a little sore, but that’s it. Was this one of your visions?”

Philip grins and laughs a little. “Not _this part_ exactly, but it working, yeah. I preferred to focus on that one instead of most of the others. It was the most fun one.” A questioning brow raises, making him chuckle again. He leans in to kiss Trevor, hand curling loosely around the side of his neck. “I’m so fucking happy it worked.”

Hands tangle in his hair, foreheads press together, and they stay like that for a long moment, simply enjoying the ability to still do so.

“Tell me about the vision for this reality.”

He scoffs, laughs softly. “Remember last night?” Trevor hums in confirmation. “Basically that…but we didn’t exactly make it upstairs first…or at least I assume it goes that way. All I ever saw was us stumbling into my old room before fading out.”

“You’re right, that does sound fun.” Trevor pulls back, fingers run through his hair as they look at one another. “How are you doing? I know this has been quite emotional for you.”

“I’m good.” He smiles at the look Trevor gives him. “I’m serious. The device works. The implant was successful. The Director was okay with it. You’re right here. There’s no reason for me to not be good right now.”

“Sounds like I’ve started to rub off on you a bit.”

Philip laughs. “Maybe a little.”


End file.
